Savages
by FieryArcher
Summary: Frank is finally attending college. And as a new, resident first year he has to learn how to navigate campus, find the best places to eat on a budget, and a place or two where you can relax. With no new mysteries to tackle on his own, Frank expends all his available energy on academic pursuits. Until the Friday before Halloween. (Story contains many OC.)
1. Chapter 1

"Savages"

Chapter One

Frank Hardy was sidestepping a group of chatting students when something hit him square in the chest. He stumbled as a petite red-head bounced off him, spun halfway around and slammed into the corner of a large, standing bulletin board three feet away. "Ouch!" The cry was short, but full of pain, and he dropped both of his duffle bags and rushed over.

"I'm so sorry! Here," he extended a hand, "Let me help you up." She grasped his large, tan hand with her own slim, pale one. Levering her up was like picking up a feather pillow by the corner. Light. He then noticed the phone and tangled pink earbuds that was lying by the base of the bulletin board. He scooped them up, inspecting the device for any cracks or other damage, and held it out to her. "I really am sorry, I didn't—"

"It's alright," the phone was taken with shaking hands, "I shouldn't be staring at my phone while walking. Especially on a crowded sidewalk." The girl was pretty. Not the pretty you see on Instagram with 20K followers, but the kind of pretty you find out in the park amidst frolicking families and sunshine. Her dark red hair, 'Is this the red called auburn?', glinted gold where the sun brushed against the curves of it tumbling over her shoulders. _'Get a grip, Frank. You're not looking for a relationship right now.'_

I'm Piper Glausman by the way, nice to meet you."

She thrust her hand at him, and he gave it a small shake with his own hand. "Likewise. Frank Hardy," He gestured to the phone in her hand, "Sturdy case you have on that thing. Is it an Otterbox?"

"Uh, no, it's," Piper turned the blue and green encased phone over to look at the back, "Survivor." She looked back at him and he noticed her eyes slide from his face, slowly all the way down to the tops of his shoes, then back to his face again. _'Is she seriously checking me out right now?'_ He pushed that thought out of his head, reminding himself that he had to find his new dorm room. He new vaguely where it was, but to be on the safe side he asked, "Piper, I hate to keep you, but could you point me in the direction of Cedar Hall?"

"Sure," Piper shrugged the slipping strap of a purse higher onto her shoulder and brushed something from the arm that had struck the bulletin board. "That's actually where I was heading." She started walking in the opposite direction he had been going, beckoning him to follow with a small wave of her hand. "Have you been having trouble with the online map? It can be a little squirrely sometimes."

Frank grabbed his duffle bags and turned to stride next to his new guide. "No, it's not the map. My phone's dead and I wasn't in town to take the tour, so I'm a little unprepared." She glanced down at his bags, "You look pretty prepared to me."

He felt a grin tug at the corners of her mouth, "I couldn't bring the whole house, but I do have to make a trip back to my car."

"Well, whatever you don't have you can get from a couple of shops on Grove Street. Don't shop on campus, 'cause you will go broke on one toothbrush." Frank's laugh was lost in a passing group's loud conversation about club meetings and what to eat for lunch. Five minutes later, when they arrived at a prominent red, brick building with a white sign reading "Cedar Hall" bolted to the front, they had to wait until three students had finished passing their considerable luggage through the white-paned double doors before they were able to enter. Piper stopped short, just avoiding another student with a large rolling suitcase. "Frank, what's your room number?"

He didn't hesitate with his reply, "Three forty." He had managed to memorize his dorm name and room numbers on the shuttle ride from the parking garages, just before his phone died. "Right," Piper led him to a small hallway that opened into a stairwell, "That is going to be on the third floor, past the Big Commons. Boys' side of course." He blinked, _'What the heck is she talking about?'_

"Boys' side? Big Commons?" He followed her short, slight figure up the stairs, easily keeping pace despite the two bags he carried and the backpack that rested snuggly on his shoulder blades. Piper glanced back at him and then up at the flights ahead of them. "This is a co-ed building, but guys have one side of every floor and girls have the other. Between the two are the Big Commons, they're really big rooms where we have a TV set and some couches, a table or two with chairs—"

"Like a recreation room?"

"Kind of, except you have to bring your own toys. Some people bring their gaming systems, others bring board games, books and magazines and whatever else they like." They fell into silence as the ringing of their footsteps in the stairwell echoed around them. It wasn't long before they reached a landing where Piper led him down a short hallway that opened into a large room that held everything she had described, plus several students and their various suitcase, backpacks, and fluffy pillows. On either side of the room were two open doorways. "This is where we split up," Piper pointed to the right-hand doorway, "On this floor that's the guys' side."

"Well," he put down one of the duffle bags long enough to shake Piper's hand for the second time, "Thank you for helping me out, Piper. And again, I'm sorry that I knocked you down earlier." She shook her head and flicked her hand as if to dismiss the incident. "Maybe we'll see each other around campus." Piper blinked, then smiled. "I'm sure we will, after all, I live on this floor too."

Frank flashed her an answering smile before turning away from her and starting for the doorway that led to "the guys' side".

He had no problems finding the room. He only had to follow the hallway, turn right twice, and the door labeled 340 was right next to the fire exit. "Thank God." After all his experiences being the son of a detective as well as a detective himself, he preferred to be close to an exit in case of emergencies. He dropped one of his duffel bags on the floor and fished in his hip pocket for the room key. It slid smoothly into the lock, clicking as he turned it further and further to the right until the doorknob itself rotated and the door swung inward under his weight.

The small space was well organized. There were two beds, one was a bunk with only the top portion functioning as the actual bed while the "bottom bunk" was nonexistent. Instead of a second mattress the area was occupied by a desk, already stacked high with textbooks, and a corresponding chair. The other bed, diagonally across the room and pressed against the opposite wall, was not part of a bunk bed set, just a standalone frame with a twin-sized mattress. There appeared to be a double stack of drawers set into the long side of the bedframe and at the foot of this bed was another desk, also with its own chair.

The bunk bed was already covered with thick comforter and crowned with an unzipped black backpack, the contents peeking out, so Frank turned to the other bed where the emptiness of the first built-in-drawer he pulled out confirmed that this is where he would be sleeping for the semester. The plastic that encased the mattress crinkled when he set his luggage on top of it. He pulled his laptop, IPad, and both chargers from his straining backpack and placed them gently into the top drawer, he then disguised them with some of the clothing from the duffel bags. There was no telling what kind of a person his roommate was, and until they got to know each other, it was better that his more expensive possessions weren't laying out in the open.

After another long trip from his car, navigating around other students who were moving in, and he finally had all his luggage moved into the room, he dug out his phone charger from the side pocket of one of the bags and hunted around for somewhere to plug it in. The four outlets he found convinced him that he wouldn't have to worry about coordinating charging time with whatever electronics his roommate may own.

He sat on the mattress, ignoring the crinkling of the plastic, and glanced over at the backpack of his new roommate. So inviting. He might be able to find out a little about this person if he just — no, what the heck was he thinking? _'Sneak through your roommate's belongings? Way to make friends, Frank.'_ It wasn't all that important, was it? He would meet his roommate soon enough. After all, they were going to be sharing the same room for at least the next five months.

Piper fished her phone from out of the jumble of belongings that weighed down her purse before hefting the bag higher on her shoulder. She ran her fingers over the screen to wipe off the streaks before pressing the power button that illuminated the picture of a pale-faced Jester whose smile lent a dangerous light to his hooded eyes. Hurriedly she tapped in the unlock code and holding down the oblong "home" button pulled up a selection menu. After picking a small, red square from the list, she stepped over a particularly large crack in the sidewalk and began to walk.

"What to watch?" Her thumb flicked through her "watch" list. She had already watched all seasons of _IZombie_, she really wasn't in the mood for _Death Note_, or maybe she would pick up _Once Upon a Time_ again. Emily had told her that they now had the fifth season playing but had refused to give her any spoilers.

She had already plugged in her earphones, adjusted them for comfort, and the beginning credits had just finished rolling when suddenly she slammed into something and was spun into the corner of a free-standing bulletin board. The metal frame forced the phone out of her hands, causing the earbuds to rip out of her ears and bruising her forearm at the same time. "Ouch!"

"I so sorry! Here, let me help you up." A strong hand gripped hers and supported her until her feet steadied under her. The hand then picked up her phone, pink earbuds dangling through the fingers. Piper looked past the callused knuckles up the tan, slightly hairy forearm, to a blue t-shirt that was stretched across broad shoulders and further to a concerned yet friendly face. _'Hello, hunky! Where have you been all my life!'_ She took the undamaged phone from his outstretched hand. "Thanks."

"I really am sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright," Piper held up her free hand, "It's my fault for not watching where I was going. Especially on a crowded sidewalk. I'm Piper Glausman by the way, nice to meet you." She thrust her hand at the stranger. Straight, white teeth peaked out from behind the smile that pushed small dimples into the corners of the young man's mouth as he grasped her hand briefly. "Likewise. Frank Hardy," He gestured to the phone in her hand, "Sturdy case you have on that thing. Is it an Otterbox?"

"Uh, no, it's," Piper turned the blue and green encased phone over to look at the back, "Survivor." She looked back at Frank and did a "top to bottom" examination while trying to make it look casual. He had thick, dark brown hair that was on the endearing side of unkempt, smooth forehead, and melted milk chocolate eyes. His t-shirt was too loose around his torso to get a good look, but she could sense that it was possible that he had washboard abs. "Piper, I hate to keep you, but could you point me in the direction of Cedar Hall?" Frank's brows, better groomed than her own, furrowed as he waited for her to answer.

"Sure," she shrugged her left shoulder as her purse strap began slipping and swiped at the flecks of faded green paint that clung to the red marks left by the poster and notice covered board. "That's actually where I was heading. Have you been able to pull up the campus map online? It can be a little squirrely sometimes."

"No, it's not the map," it took Frank only one step to match Piper's stride as she began walking again, "My phone's dead and I wasn't in town to take the tour, so I'm a little unprepared."

"You look pretty prepared to me." Piper glanced at the two duffle bags he now held in either hand. His smile was crooked, "I couldn't bring the whole house, but I do have to make a trip back to my car."

"Well, whatever you don't have you can get from a couple of shops on Grove Street. Don't shop on campus 'cause you will go broke on one toothbrush." Frank's laugh was lost in a passing group's loud conversation about club meetings and what to eat for lunch. Five minutes later, when they arrived at a prominent red, brick building with a white sign reading "Cedar Hall" bolted to the front, they had to wait until three students had finished passing their considerable luggage through the white-paned double doors before they were able to enter. Piper stopped short, just avoiding another student with a large rolling suitcase. "Frank, what's your room number?"

"Three forty."

"Right," Piper led him to a small hallway that opened into a stairwell, "That would be third floor, past the Big Commons. Boys' side of course."

"The boys' side? Big Commons?" At out of the corner of her eye Piper saw him trying to avoid looking at her the tightness of her skinny jeans. _'Look all you want, beautiful. I'd love to see more of you!'_ She glanced back at him and his three bags, _'And he's strong too!'_ and then up at the flights ahead of them. "This is a co-ed building, but guys have one side of every floor and girls have the other. Between the two are the Big Commons, they're really big rooms where we have a TV set and some couches, a table or two with chairs—"

"Like a recreation room?"

"Kind of, except you have to bring your own toys. Some people bring their gaming systems, others bring board games, books and magazines and whatever else they like." They fell into silence as the ringing of their footsteps in the stairwell echoed around them. It wasn't long before they reached a landing where Piper went down another hallway that opened into a large room that held everything Piper had described, plus several students and their various suitcase, backpacks, and fluffy pillows. On either side of the room were two open doorways. "This is where we split up," Piper pointed to the right-hand doorway, "On this floor that's the guys' side." Later in the semester the guys and girls would "forget" which side of the floor they're on, but the Hall supervisor is all over the building today, so Piper knew that there would be no accidental mix-ups.

"Well," Frank put down one of the duffle bags long enough to shake Piper's hand for the second time, "Thank you for helping me out, Piper. And again, I'm sorry that I knocked you down earlier." She shook her head and flicked her hand as if to dismiss the incident. "Maybe we'll see each other around campus." Piper blinked, then smiled. "I'm sure we will, after all, I live on this floor too."

She watched Frank disappear around the corner of the next hallway before turning to wind her way to her own room. The episode on her phone was still playing when she looked at it. She blew a short breath of frustration through her teeth as she dragged the red dot along the progress bar to the beginning. She hated missing the set up.

The dorm room door sucked the air from around her face, pulling loose tendrils of her red hair forward to hang in her eyes. A cloying scent swirled around her and grew stronger as she closed the door. "God, Allison, really? You know we're not allowed to have any matches, candles or incense in the room." Allison Porter, an equally petite young woman, turned her large, round, long-lashed eyes to her roommate of two years. Piper was consistently amazed at how her roommate could get her makeup so perfect that she looked like a living doll. "It's not incense, I'm diffusing a peace oil. I would never invite negative energy into our space by getting us into trouble."

"Fine," Piper quickly waved a hand, heading off any lectures about oils and their effect on moods and the "energies" of the room, "just as long as you make sure to turn it off before going to bed. That hissing sound kept me up all night last night." Piper tossed her purse onto her bed, the one low bed in the room, and sank into the rolling chair that stood sentry beside her desk.

"I'll be going to the Calhan's this evening. Odette has some new polish I want to try." Allison held out her hands, palms down, displaying to Piper the current state of her nails complete with chipped and flaking, Apple Green polish. Piper nodded, pausing the episode to turn her full attention to the news she was about to impart, "I met someone today."

"Oh?" Allison stuffed a brush and a box of hair dye into a canvas shopping bag. "Mmhmm, he's new, he's damn fine, and he rooms on _this_ floor." Piper squirmed excitedly in her seat, "His name is Frank Hardy." Allison paused with a bottle of nail polish remover in her hands. "His name has a familiar cadence." She traced a finger around the logo on the bottle, "Frank Hardy." Piper laughed at her roommate's pronunciation, rolling the "r"s and chomping down on the hard consonants. Allison put the bottle close to her face and whispered conspiratorially to it, "I'm looking forward to seeing his aura."


	2. Chapter 2

"Savages"

Chapter Two

Frank Hardy woke to sore ribs and a slight ache in his head. He swallowed before licking his dry lips and rolling over, his elbow digging into the mattress. He had removed the plastic from it before wrapping it in proper bedding the previous day, but it must have been new because it was the stiffest thing he had slept on since his job in Death Valley. As he lay there, he ran over the day's schedule in his head. It was Sunday, so there no classes, but the next day began the rush of all things academic and he needed to make sure he wasn't missing any textbooks or other supplies.

The one window in the room was now covered by a blackout curtain. His roommate must have a dislike of being woken up with the sun in his face. Frank rubbed at his nose with the hem of his comforter, warding off a sneeze that twinged deep in his sinuses. There were no sounds, no ticking of a clock, no shifting of clothing or sheets from a tossing body, and no snoring. Twisting a little towards the foot of his bed, Frank tried to make out if there was anyone in the bunk across the room.

The blankets were heaped in a mound along the edge of the bed and an arm was dangling over into empty space. As Frank watched the fingers began twitching and the arm was drawn back into the covers. His roommate may get up soon. He had moved in just yesterday, but he had yet to meet his roommate and didn't want to do that while looking like the waking dead.

He sat up, swung his legs out over the side of the mattress, and stood up, the blanket clinging to the thin material of his sleeping shorts. The carpet beneath his feet was thin and coarse, but there were no granules of dirt digging into his heels and he wondered if that was his roommate's doing or if the dorms were cleaned regularly by a housekeeping crew. _'I've got to stop thinking like I'm back at the Resort!'_

He had familiarized himself with the route to the communal bathroom the day before and after slipping on some shower shoes, grabbing his towel and some clothes, he made his way to it, closing the dorm room door as quietly as he could. The key he tucked into the back pocket of the pair of jeans he had clutched in his hand and listened to the low murmurings of other early birds and their routines. When he returned from showering the room was empty and the blanket on the other bed was tucked around the mattress tight enough to make Frank wonder whether his roommate had military upbringing.

His pajamas and shower items put away, Frank slid his feet into his only pair of Vans, grabbed his phone, his car keys and his wallet from the desk drawer where he had hidden them, and headed out of the building. The next several hours were spent picking up miscellaneous items from a local supermarket he saw yesterday and grabbing lunch at a crowded pizza parlor before heading back to campus. After dropping his purchases off at the room, he headed across the grounds to the school bookstore. On his way there he checked the online listing of textbooks needed for the courses he had enrolled in two weeks earlier. Out of the five books that were listed, he only had one left to buy, and it was in stock.

The bookstore was open for half the day today, with classes beginning the next morning, and professors neglecting to get their orders in on time and therefore making everyone late on buying their textbooks, they were making an exception to their normal closed hours. And it was showing. When Frank walked into the air-conditioned building there was a line to the registers that wrapped around one of the decorative support columns that didn't diminish until the beginning of the bookshelves several yards back. _'This is going to take forever.' _

"This is insane! Three hundred dollars for one textbook?! If I hadn't already taken out a loan I would quit right now!" Frank didn't look in the direction of the outburst, though he sympathized with the speaker. He understood why professors insisted on certain books, he just wished that they weren't required to purchase them from the University's bookstore. The price tags tended to be ridiculous. It took him all of two minutes to find the textbook he was looking for, and good thing he made it when he did. It was the last hard copy. There was a stack of online access passes on the same shelf, but Frank preferred to be able to highlight passages and write study notes in the margins of his books. The cost of the book wasn't as much as he had feared, but it still stung to have to pay for something that, had it been listed on Amazon, he could've gotten for twenty dollars less.

Upon returning to his room, he sat at his desk, pulled out all his technology, and proceeded to update all forms of communication. His personal email account was clean of any new, important messages and soon he had his spam folder emptied and his student email set up on laptop, tablet, and smartphone. As soon as he was logged-in he was hit by a tidal wave of emails. Some labeled Financial Aid, others labeled "Admissions", but the emails with course markers in the labels far out-numbered the rest.

To get to any emails that might hold important information about his classes, he merely skimmed through the admissions emails. There was a reminder to complete some last assessment testing, a prompt to finish an online "financial course" that he had begun two days ago, and he had an appointment on Monday at nine am to meet his peer ambassador in the Student Union Building.

He had just finished reading an email from one professor about an assignment that would be due at the beginning of the class period on the following Tuesday, when he heard a key in the door. He looked up just in time to be confronted by the back of the person entering, the soft edges of a collapsible laundry hamper visible over the tops of bare arms. The young man backed into the room, jerked the key out of the lock and, using his right foot to close the door, turned around.

"Joe–" Frank choked. No, it couldn't be his brother. Joe was on a plane to London, England, he had texted Frank before the flight left two hours ago. But there was no mistaking that build, lithe yet filled out with muscles built from playing sports and physical training, the slightly upturned nose and the green – wait. Joe did not have vibrantly green eyes, nor did he have black hair that hung over into them. And the skin tone was a shade or two darker than that of his brother's.

"Hi," the young man swung the hamper under the bunk bed next to the desk, "Ya must be my new roomie." The hand he extended was tan and he wore a wide sweatband around his wrist. Frank felt his own calluses slide against those of his roommate. "Yes, my name is Frank Hardy."

"No kiddin'?" The face lit up with a smile that mirrored the younger Hardy brother's perfectly, even to the deep dimple only in the left-hand corner of his mouth. Frank nodded, now using both hands to casually steady himself on the simple headboard of his bed. "Well, it's nice to meet ya Frank. I'm Tod Hardey, spelled E-Y. How's your's spelled"

'_Uncanny_,' Frank marveled, _'even the timbre of his voice is close.'_ Although, this young man had more than a little southern slang tainting an otherwise perfect speech pattern. "No "e", just "y"." Frank exhaled shakily, "That's something else, I never expected to be rooming with someone who has the same last name as myself."

"Me neither." Joe _'– no, Tod'_, reached up and snagged something out of the open mouth of his backpack. "Hope we get along, hope the semester goes great for ya and if ya have any questions ya can always ask me. But I'm pretty sure that admissions will assign ya a sorta "student ambassador", if they haven't already, so ya may have more help than ya want." He headed to the door, opened it, and gave one last nod and a wink at Frank, "See ya 'round, yeah?"

"Yeah," Frank breathed at the now closed door. Shifting to one side, he sat on the mattress and placed his slightly shaking hands on his knees. He felt like he had just been hit in the head with a basketball; not dizzy, but like he was seeing, hearing and thinking through a cotton cloud. Could he be dreaming? He remembered having vivid dreams before. But as he raked the nail of his left index finger across his right forearm the light pain cried out the negative answer.

Rubbing at the faint scratch mark and frowning he picked up his phone, and hurriedly pulled up Google. He didn't do this often, he usually had access to better researching systems at home, but for lack of better tools…he typed in the name "Tod Hardey".

He didn't get much. There were a couple of people listed by that name; an elementary school teacher in Canyon County North Carolina, one was actually an obituary for someone who had died three years ago, another was a retiree who, judging by all the game notifications in his Facebook feed, had way too much time on his hands, but no Tod Hardey who was a student at Westwood University. Frank huffed as he erased his search and placed the phone back on his desk. He should've expected that there might not be anything there for him to find. Not everyone had a social media account. And universities weren't in the habit of making student's names available to the public, unless they were famous alumni, or had won some award. _'Good thing he's my roommate. I have the whole semester to get to know more about him. No need to be paranoid or freak out.'_ He took a deep breath,_ 'Just chill.'_

From the time Frank cracked the first book, to the time he slammed it closed and rubbed his weary eyes no one had entered the room. And it wasn't until Frank was getting ready to head out to scrounge some food that Tod returned, bringing with him wafts of chlorine. Tod sidestepped Frank, a towel draped over his arm and his damp hair tousled, "You going to the dining hall for dinner?" "Yeah," Frank rubbed his palms down the back of his jeans until his fingers jammed into his back pockets. "I haven't been to the cafeteria yet, so I figured—"

"Give me a sec and I'll show you where it's at." Tod tossed the towel onto his bunk, slipped out of his flip-flops into a pair of simple canvas shoes before urging Frank to follow him out into the hallway. "I wasn't asking for your help getting there-" Frank began to protest.

"It's all cool," Tod was practically racing down the stairs, "They got good eats. An' ya haven't been there yet, right?" A warning bell went off in the back of Frank's mind. Had Tod been looking for him? As if to disprove his suspicious thoughts, Tod called over his shoulder, "Piper's been telling all her girlfriends 'bout ya. Apparently ya made quite an impression. So whadcha do to get her attention?" They both squeezed through the front doors, following in the wake of several other students. "I ran into her, literally." "Well, she must not have minded cause all the girls on our floor want to meet ya. Ya're gonna be a busy guy!"

"Is that why you're escorting me to the cafeteria?" Frank let his grin tug at the corners of his mouth until his eyelids began to crinkle, "To be swamped by introductions?" Tod was quiet for a moment, "Nah, girls know I'm not on the market, so they might steer clear." He glanced sideways at Frank as they fell instep, the gleam in his eyes mischievous, and he teased, "Course, I could sit somewhere else, in case you're lookin' for a girl?"

Frank felt all traces of merriment leave his face as he thought about Callie Shaw, his girlfriend since their junior year in high school. After the last case he and his brother Joe had been a part of, he and Callie had a heated argument that left him with little confidence in their relationship. "Not yet." Tod said nothing, either too embarrassed or too busy dodging bicyclists to notice the pain in Frank's voice. _'He's not my brother, there is no reason to treat him like one. He is a stranger. I don't know him, and he doesn't know me. So why are we already so familiar with each other?'_

The wide sidewalk they followed seemed to be a thoroughfare for all students on foot, bikes, skateboards, longboards, and scooters. Despite all the foot traffic it didn't take them long to reach the exceptionally large, glass fronted building that was affectionately nicknamed the "SUB". The Student Union Building housed the student dining hall, the campus radio studio, as well as a small bowling alley and recreation area, meeting halls, small galleries, ballrooms and the offices for many of the university's academic advisors. Frank had only been in the building once, and that was to pick up his admissions packet on his way through town earlier that summer.

The line for food in the dining hall was long but it moved swiftly and soon Frank found himself with a tray full of fried chicken, green bean casserole, two dinner rolls and a side salad. His fork and knife were tucked under the heavy chicken thighs that dominated the tray, and his red glass of Dr. Pepper was clenched in his right hand while the tray was balanced in his left. Not having the energy to introduce himself to strangers, he sat at an empty corner table that was flush against one of the tall windows that gave the hall its open feel. A moment later, Tod set his own tray down across from Frank's.

"So, ya went for the fried chicken did ya?" Frank glanced at Tod's selection: skinless chicken breast, raw broccoli and other veggies, and the same side salad that Frank had chosen. And the clear plastic at his left hand signified that Tod had filled his glass with water. "Yeah. And with you being from the south, I'm surprised you didn't get any." This garnered a laugh but no history-revealing comment. Frank picked up a piece of the crispy-fried chicken in both hands and felt the grease creep down his chin as he bit into the juicy flesh. Self-consciousness pricked between his shoulder blades as Tod watched him chew with an amused look on his face. As if realizing what he was doing, Tod ducked his head, picked up his fork and dug into his salad ravenously.

After a few moments of silence spent in chewing, swallowing, and washing down their food with quick sips from their glasses Tod tried to break the ice again. "Are ya from 'round here?" Frank reached for the napkin dispenser in the middle of the table. "I'm from Bayport New York, just transferred in from the university there."

"Bayport? Is it a fishin' town?" Frank nodded as Tod chased a bite of chicken with a mouthful of water. "What's your major?"

"Criminal Justice with a minor in aeronautical engineering." Tod made an _'Impressive'_ noise in the back of his throat. Frank counterattacked with the same query, "What about you?"

"Business and Economics Analytics. No minor."

"So, you're a math man." Frank made a mouth in one of his dinner rolls with the slightly serrated blade of his bread knife and slid a thin pat of butter into the opening. "And where are you from, Tod?"

"Lake Moore."

"Can't say I've ever heard of it." Tod's face took on the same amused expression he had at the beginning on the meal. "It's a freckle on the backside of Nowheresville Georgia, so I don't 'xpect ya to know it."

"What brought you from Nowheresville?" Frank pried out a knot of bread and butter from behind his molars with his tongue. "Westwood has an exceptional BEA program, and I was able to pick up a couple of scholarships." "And were you born in Georgia?" Tod shredded a slice of chicken with his fork. "Nope, Georgia is not the place of my birth. Actually," Tod stabbed a piece of broccoli, "I have no idea where I was born. I could be from Mars and no one would be able to say I weren't—wasn't."

Frank hid his surprise at Tod's flippant statement in his cup. Was Tod an orphan? Reluctant to ask such a personal question of the man he had only met that day, he was searching for another topic to discuss when the decision was taken from him by the approach of two girls. One was the exuberant Piper, the other was a pale-faced doll surrounded by a cloud of wispy lavender hair.

"Frank! So glad to see you again!" Piper encircled her companion's thin waist with an arm and subtly thrust the girl forward. "This is my roommate, Allison."

"Nice to meet you," Frank hastily wiped his hands clean before offering one for a handshake. Until that moment Allison had been staring at the space above Frank's left shoulder, but now she slid her small hand daintily into his own. Frank was startled to find the air around him to be warmer and smelling pleasantly of lemon and oranges. "Hello, Frank. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." The voice was soft, like her hand, with no discernable accent markers. Frank felt the loss of the warmth as soon as he let go of her hand. _'Finally? I guess Tod wasn't kidding earlier.'_

"Hello Piper, Allison." Tod had not stopped eating when the girls walked up to the table, and now there was nearly nothing left on his tray. Frank wondered if he had sped up his feeding process so he could leave the table. But Tod did not fulfill this thought as he leaned back in his chair, arms loosely crossed just below his chest, and observed as both girls turned towards him. Piper blushed on recognizing him, her freckles muted with pink diffusing over her cheeks. Allison didn't look directly at him at first but, like with Frank, she stared at a point above one of Tod's shoulders before meeting his eyes.

"Tod," Piper ran her hands over her hair, tucking a fiery lock behind her ear, "Haven't seen you in a while. How was your break?" Tod seemed to be having a sort of stare-down with Allison, neither of them breaking eye contact, but neither of them glaring, just cautiously watching each other. "Break went great. Gotta good job, had some fun, it was a good summer. What 'bout you?"

"A group of my friends and I canoed the Dee River. I got to see that waterfall you told me about, and we only tipped over once!" Piper was now twisting her fingers into a knot in front of her. This statement seemed to break through the staring contest long enough for Tod to give Piper a smile so sincere and warm that she blushed all over again. "Did ya get to see the cave at the back of the falls?"

"We all ended up soaking wet, but we took a couple of hours to explore the whole thing! We got some really amazing pictures." Whatever silent conversation had been going on between Allison and Tod seemed to be over as Allison turned away from the still grinning Tod and latched onto Piper's arm. "We've bothered Frank long enough, we should let him finish his meal."

"Oh, no." Tod stood and gestured to the two empty seats beside Frank and himself. "Ya'll stay. I'm done so ya can set and chat for a bit." Frank watched with interest as Allison went from dainty doll to ethereal warrior with a simple straightening of her shoulders. "No, thank you. Perhaps some other time." And with that polite, but frosty, rejection, she steered Piper towards the counters of food across the hall.

Tod sat back down, his smile was lopsided, one corner of his mouth lifted higher than the other. Frank had been silent throughout the last of the exchange, and his people reading skills made it clear that there was something going on between Tod and Allison. _'Is she the reason he's "off the market"?'_ He disposed of that thought. Allison hadn't responded as though she was in a relationship with his roommate. An ex perhaps? He couldn't help smiling thinking about the contrast between Allison and Piper's reactions to Tod. Clearly Piper was attracted the athletic young man. He wondered if Tod had noticed.

"So," Frank drained the last of his soda, "Allison seems like a fascinating person." Tod, who had been frowning at the bottom of his empty glass, now looked up. "She's our residential mystic. A real character, if ya couldn't tell what with that hair 'n' make-up." Frank raised an eyebrow, _'Stereotyping, much?'_ Aloud he asked, "Mystic?"

Tod's smile was quick before he turned his gaze to the task of sweeping crumbs off the table into a napkin. "Yeah, she's into the whole—crystals an' auras an' spirits, an' crap. My roommate last semester told me 'bout how she gauges other people by their auras."

"Is that what she was doing when she doesn't look straight at you, but just to the left or right? That's a little unfair, isn't it?" Tod's head jerked up, his expression serious. "If ya believe in that stuff I guess so. But if ya believe than how can it be unfair? You're expecting it then, right?"

Frank had always been more than a little skeptical about the occult. Even in cases that involved such things as supposed witches, warlocks, and the occasional Voodoo priest or priestess made him pick apart every viewpoint and cling all the harder to science and rational thinking. But there were somethings that science couldn't quite explain. Like the vibe you get from someone the first time you meet them. His first impression of Tod was never going to be accurate, masked as it was by the surprise of encountering his brother's doppelganger.

Both boys stood, collected their trays, silverware and glasses, and made the trip to a conveyor belt that whisked their dirty dishes through a square opening back to where Frank assumed the kitchen must be located. He shuddered as he thought about the "Dish Pit" he had worked a stint in while at the Furnace Creek Resort before switching to housekeeping. The memory of the sweaty, hell-like section of the kitchen was what prompted him to decline an offer of work-study at Westwood. If he was going to earn money, he was going to do it at a job that he chose.

Tod had detoured to stop at a squat metal machine that pumped out vanilla ice cream when he pulled the handle. With practiced motions, Tod filled a cone, swirling the cold white treat until it was a satisfactory height, and deftly ended it with a curly-Q. Frank debated whether he should follow suit. His stomach was heavy with his dinner and the last time he had overstuffed himself he hadn't slept well. There would be plenty of opportunities to eat ice cream.

Tod wasn't the only student to leave the cafeteria with a desert. As they walked back towards their dorm building Frank noted a slower walking student who was intent of stuffing a large chocolate chip cookie into his mouth. Frank was just opening his mouth to ask Tod if there were any other students he knew from the year before, when a shout hailed them from further down the sidewalk. A tall young man was weaving his way towards them on a skateboard. Frank admired how he navigated with only slight swaying of his weight from one side of the board to the other, like a surfer riding a Party Wave.

"Hey, Hardey!" One long arm was raised, the short white sleeves of the tee-shirt billowing in the breeze caused by his forward movement. It was only when he was almost on top of them that Frank clearly saw that the only finger that was visible on the raised hand was the middle finger. He stopped, stunned, _'What the heck did I do?'_ Then, next to him, Tod called back, "Up yours, Red!" "Red", was passing them, and now raised both hands forcefully upwards using the same sign.

"Friend of yours?" Frank caught up with Tod, glancing over his shoulder to see the skateboarder disappear around the far corner of the building. "Yeah." Tod circled the cone with the flat of his tongue, "Red's one of the guys I play ball with. An' he's a sooooore loser." Frank thought, _'Guess that answers that question.'_ The rest of the uneventful trip to the dorm was walked in total silence.


	3. Chapter 3

"Savages"

Chapter Three

"So," Piper spoke around the butterflies in her stomach, "What do you think?" Allison didn't reply immediately, instead she took her time, slowly meandering her way through the food choices before gathering her usual vegan fare. "His core aura speaks of high intelligence and self-confidence." She picked up a dish of peaches and placed them on her tray, "However, some of the outer layers suggest that he is struggling with a personal issue. Possibly romantic in nature."

"That's not what I meant." Piper followed behind her friend, composing a salad containing strips of grilled chicken, dried cranberries, onions, parmesan cheese, and a lite version of her favorite ranch dressing. "What do you think of him physically?"

"He is as you say, "fine". Attractive. If he is not currently in a relationship, I expect him to be in one by the end of the month." The two friends sat at a table in the middle of the dinning hall, one that seated four people. "But you seemed to be pay more attention to his companion then you did to Frank Hardy."

Piper blushed hard, "Do you think it was obvious?" Allison took a bite of her coconut crusted tofu, and thoroughly chewed and swallowed it before answering. "Maybe to Frank, he seems like a sharp person, but possibly not to Tod." Piper sighed with relief as she dug into her salad, "Oh, thank god."

"Piper," Allison's voice held a note of firmness she didn't often use, "I know you like him, but I don't think it's a good idea to get too close. He's not as he seems."

"Why? Do you think he's gay?" Piper felt her forehead crease in a frown, she fervently hoped he wasn't gay. "Or is it because of his aura?" She wasn't sure if she believed in the practices of her friend, but Allison did seem to have a keen intuition and a knack for reading people. "Yes. It's hard to explain, but I see indications that he is masking his true self. Not all of it is bad," Allison conceded, "in fact, he might well have some good attributes." She turned her attention back to her meal. "Although, the parts that are bad are a bit," she paused to rub a dainty finger across one brow, "murky. I can't see them clearly. But they are," she kept rubbing, a habit Piper had learned was a manifestation of stress in her roommate, "dangerous."

"What's dangerous?" They looked up as two young women, nearly identical in appearance, filled the other two seats at the table. Adele and Odette Calhan where good friends with both Piper and Allison, and while they shared a nearly indistinguishable physical appearance, they could always be told apart by their individual sense of style. Adele wore glasses and preferred a more business casual wardrobe, while her twin, Odette, reveled in the dark appeals of goth grunge. Both sisters were strikingly beautiful.

"Isn't anyone going to fill us in on the conversation?" Odette tucked her blonde hair behind an ear, revealing chains of gunmetal stars that trailed from the cuff on her upper ear, down to the piercing in her lobe. "What's dangerous?"

"Allison was just telling me that she thinks I should stay away from Tod Hardey because of his murky aura." Piper passed the salt shaker to a beckoning Adele. "I don't see it though. I've never seen him angry or displaying any kind of negative behavior towards anyone."

"Yeah, but, you're not around him all the time," Odette deftly sliced through a baked potato, "He could be a completely different person when you're not around." Adele nodded in agreement, "Many people wear masks. And some people are better at concealing their thoughts and emotions than others."

"Is that your opinion as a social works major, or as a friend?" Adele shrugged at Piper's question. "Both." Odette dropped butter, cheese, and sour cream into the steaming potato, "Although, honestly, I can't say that I've seen anything but positive actions from him either."

Allison, having finished her tofu and half her vegetables, leaned back in her chair and ran a hand through her hair, shifting it back into wavy strands. "There is a slight chance that I'm wrong, I have been mistaken before." she shook her head, "But I doubt it. His aura hasn't changed much since the first time I met him."

"But you've never been wrong about mine, right?" Allison gave Odette a gentle smile, "No, never you my kind friend." She reached across the table to lay her hand on Odette's. "You've always been beautiful shades of purple. As befitting a generous and creative artist." Odette blushed and withdrew her hand. "I wished other people would see me that way." She was often the brunt of rude comments and sideways glances from people who didn't appreciate her visual aesthetic.

"Just ignore them, Odette," Piper downed the last of her water, "They're not a part of your tribe and don't have a say in your choices." She rose, "Does anyone need a refill?" Both Allison and Adele passed her their cups, the first requesting water, the second voicing a thirst for Coke. When she returned, the topic of conversation had turned to talk about upcoming courses, and the teachers they would be taught under.

"God, I can't believe I got Mr. Blackstone again." Adele rolled her eyes and slumped her shoulders. "He is such a slave driver!" Odette spoke around a bite of her roll, "If you hate him so much, why didn't you register for a different course section?" Adele sighed. "Because he has the most experience and knowledge. Plus, the other instructor is still on maternity leave and won't be back until next semester."

Piper laughed. "She had _another_ kid? How many does that make now?" Adele groaned, "Six! Can you believe it?! Where does she find the time to do it?" Her sister smirked. "It's probably a destressing technique." Piper nearly snorted water out of her nose laughing.

"I just can't help but think about how much money it must take to take care of them all." Allison wiped her fork on a napkin, "I wonder if her husband has a high-income job." She stood and arranged her dishes in a pile at the center of her tray. "At least she fertile." The other three girls burst into laughter, Adele laughing so hard that she nearly stuck her face into her food doubling over. "What about you, Piper?" Odette questioned once the laughter had died down, "Anything interesting in your course line up?"

"I've got a bio anthropology lecture and lab combo, a natural and applied science course," she thought a moment before continuing ticking the classes off on her fingers, "intro to archeology, and a language course."

"Which language?"

"German. I've always wanted to learn it, and it wasn't offered when I was in high school. And I'd love to go to Germany someday. I read that there is a town that is so old that it still has a structure that dates to the age of the Roman Empire!" She sighed happily. "I can't wait to see it!" The meal ended with the other girls teasing Piper for being a culture nerd. They walked back to the dorm together: a goth grunge, a pastel goth, a business casual, and the-girl-next-door.


	4. Chapter 4

"Savages"

Chapter Four

Frank rose early the next morning, determined not to be late to the first day orientation, and meeting his "ambassador". Tod was already gone, his bed again made with crisp, military neatness, with only one pillow crowning the mattress. After showering, dressing, and making sure that all his notebooks, text books and pencils were properly stowed away in his backpack, Frank slung the heavy pack onto one shoulder and rushed for breakfast.

Though the dining hall packed with students, no one approached him as he shoveled scrambled eggs, bacon, and ketchup-drowned hash browns into his mouth, and flushed the lot with a glass of apple juice. After making a quick trip to the restroom to make sure he hadn't spilled anything on his clothes, and to wash his hands and face, he popped a mint, and after verifying the location of the meeting with his cell phone, made his way at a purposefully sedate pace. It was best not to arrive early looking like you've just run a marathon.

He was still ten minutes early when he arrived at the oaken double doors, name above them was "Hatch Auditorium" in bold, brass letters. Opening the right-hand door, which was heavier than he expected, he scanned the immediate area before entering. A stage and podium dominated the front of the room, while rows of chairs took up more than half of the remaining space. Frank searched for an empty seat amongst the many students that sat hugging backpacks and staring deep into the screens of their phones.

Frank sat in an empty stadium style seat at the end of an aisle somewhere in the middle, and to pass the time he looked around the room to see if there was anyone he'd already seen around campus. No familiar faces. He had just looked down at his phone to check the time when the other occupants fell silent as a familiar voice greeted them. "Good morning. My name is Tod Hardey, and I would like to welcome all of you to the first day here at Westwood University."

Frank couldn't have been more surprised if a rubber band had hit him square on the forehead. In the brief time that he and Tod had spent together there had been no mention of him being involved in the workings of the university. Frank watched as his roommate continued to address the group. He was wearing a green button-down shirt that was tucked into the waist of casual black slacks and his Adam's apple bounced above the hollow created by the first undone button on his shirt. His dark hair was combed to one side, creating a wave above his right eyebrow before the ends feathered out over the same temple. He was using his hands expressively as he explained how the next several hours were going to go for the new students, and only a light trace of his southern accent was audible.

"Some of you are transfer students from other institutions, and for others this is the first time you'll be attending a university. Regardless of where you are in your academic journey, the staff here at Westwood, and that includes myself, are going to do everything we can to make sure you are on the path that suits you best and that it will enable you to become successful in your career field of choice." Five young people, all dressed casually in the university colors of gold, green, and charcoal grey, stepped out of the wings of the small stage and joined Tod in facing the students. "The six of us are student ambassadors, meaning that we are the peers who are going to be guiding you for these first few days. All of you should've received a packet when you attended orientation, included in that packet is a map…."

Frank half listened as Tod explained the basics of how to navigate the campus, and he was so wrapped up in studying a copy of the campus map that he was startled when the six ambassadors stepped down from the stage and spread out across the front of the room, each carrying a backpack or bulging messenger bag. "We'll now begin to split into the groups that you will be receiving guidance from beginning today." One by one each of the student ambassadors stepped forward and called names they read from a short piece of paper in their hands. As each group became full, they moved out of the room until there was only one group left, Frank, Tod, and seven other students.

During their trek to the first building, where it seemed nearly all of the students in the group had their first class, Frank managed to catch Tod's eye in passing. Tod smiled, jerking his head in an acknowledging hello, but didn't stop informing the group about various resources available to further their studies. Frank, shifting his backpack to a more comfortable position, followed the stream of students that were walking past a large cut granite stone with "McArthur" chiseled into its face. The main doors were heavily weighted, and Frank grunted when one caught the edge of his shoulder as it started to close. This was just the first of several small annoyances that seemed to plague him as he half tripped on the stairs going to the third floor and knocked his cell phone off the table just as class was about to start.

It turned out that his first two classes were shorter than he expected. This was due to them being more of introduction and icebreaker sessions to help everyone get comfortable with the instructor and fellow classmates. His third class however, was more of a quick study session that involved completing several worksheets and handing them to the instructor before the class was dismissed. By the time he had managed to find a place to eat, it was after two in the afternoon, and he was more than a little hungry.

His lunch of choice came from one of the three food trucks on the quad, a steaming hot pizza cone on which he burned his tongue with the first bite. Sucking air through his open mouth to cool the stringy mass of cheese and pepperoni before he swallowed it, he sat on a nearby bench and watched as hordes of students undulated like schools of fish across the quad. The sidewalk was crowded with various tables of student clubs and other organizations, and students came away from these tables with goodie bags, information sheets, and business cards. Personally, he had little interest in collecting what he thought of as unnecessary clutter, it's not as if he had a lot of storage space.

This was the end of his school day. Three classes, lunch, and maybe a trip to the library. 'Yeah,' he licked the last of the warm grease from his fingers, 'It'll be useful to know the rules, I'll probably be in there a lot.' He was merely one of a few hundred students, all of whom seemed to have the same idea. He made his way through the crowded entryway and joined a group that was forming in front of a woman wearing an ID badge on a green lanyard.

"If you will follow me please," she tugged at the hem of her blouse before turning and heading towards the back of the building at a brisk pace. "This library was first built in nineteen fifty-four with a donation from…" Frank gripped the straps of his backpack tightly, as he followed the throng, bumping shoulders as they were guided from one floor to the next. During this tour he learned where he could study in a group, where he could study if he wanted some quiet alone time, that they had a fully equipped video production and audio room, and that the building was comprised of not only the campus library, but also several academic departments such as history and a portion of the engineering school.

She led them through rows of towering bookshelves packed with spines of every height, color, and thickness. "And please," she stopped and turned to address the group, "When you are finished with a book place it one of these," here she pointed to an empty section of shelving that was fire-engine red, "shelves, or on one of the carts by a reference bookshelf." This was repeated once for every floor they visited. 'They must have some serious problems with shelving' Frank thought as he stopped to check out the media room. It was floor to ceiling with CDs, DVDs, and records. He noted two different record players, three TVs with DVD players, and a small station with a glass case that read: "Portable CD Players, Swipe Student ID to Retrieve".

The tour ended with a demonstration on how to print using the money loaded onto their student IDs, and a brief instruction on how to use the large poster printer kept in a corner on the ground floor. Frank was sweating when he left the building. The crush of people had been too much and on a hot day in August he was dying for some air conditioning.

He arrived at the dorm shortly before three thirty in the afternoon, too early to eat dinner, and way too early to go to bed. He dumped all his gear on the floor, and plopped face first onto his bed. He had forgotten how exhausting the first day of school could be. He rolled over and stared up at the ceiling. He needed to go over his notes for tomorrow's class. He hoped that they would be discussing the material in depth, cause he wasn't sure he understood the last part of the assignment. He stayed like that, arm across his forehead, barely blinking, concentrating on breathing in, and out, wishing that for one more day he didn't have to worry about finishing assignments, or getting good grades.

A thump in the hallway brought him out of his daze, and he listened as several boisterous voices proclaimed their intention of getting smashed one last time before the semester really got started. Then all was quiet. And he dragged himself out of bed, on to his desk chair, and pulled a three-ring binder out of his backpack. There he sat for the next hour, slowly going over his notes, comparing them with the material he had read, and adding a few more observations. By then, his underarms had stopped feeling sticky, and he felt ready to face the open campus again. 'I should go check out the gym. See what they've got.'

The campus was still humming with activity. Students streamed in and out of buildings, food trucks were serving thinning lines of customers, although, some of the organizations that had occupied the quad had packed up and only the folding tables remained. He had to consult the campus map online several times before he came to the right square-bricked building. The front was all windows and glass doors, and when he entered there were turnstiles preventing immediate access to what appeared to be the main facilities.

"Can we help you?" The young woman at the desk was grinning so widely, that Frank wondered if she was alright. "Yes," Frank stepped up to the kidney shaped desk, "This is my first semester here and I'd like to explore the building a little bit, is there a tour or something like that?"

"Yes," she waved an open hand to a spot behind him, "If you'd like to wait with that group over there, the next tour starts in five minutes." Frank thanked her and headed to a cluster of people loitering in front of a large chalkboard, which proclaimed, in elaborately ornate lettering, that this semester would bring the best for all students. Frank blinked, 'I sure hope it does.' He wasn't as optimistic as his brother, but he wasn't normally pessimistic either. But ever since he and Callie… His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of what could only be their guide.

"All right ladies and gentlemen," the tall, rather buff, young man, clasped his hands in front of him, "If you all will follow me, we can get this show on the road." As they followed the guide through the turnstiles, Frank noticed several girls in their group eyeing the guide with warm smiles on their faces. 'Great,' he thought bitterly, 'just what I need. A bunch of horny girls.' He mentally shook himself, determined to stop thinking about girls and concentrate on the gym. Later, he was glad he did.

He was eager to start using all the equipment, even let himself be talked into renting a locker for the semester. And he was beyond pleased that they were open all day every day. It allowed for him to go whenever he had a chance. Even though he liked having a steady routine, he doubted it was going to be that way with his new classes. He'd get a better idea of how to order things by the end of the week.

Dinner was uneventful. Again, he saw no one he knew in the cafeteria, and his return to the room was uninterrupted. His roommate wasn't home either. So, he sat down at his desk, pulled out a new notepad and a pen, and began making a list of groceries he could get. He wondered if there were any rules about not having a minifridge in the room; though, looking around, he'd have to figure out where to put it if he did get one. _'I wonder if there is a discount store around here.'_

He went to bed around eight, setting his alarm for five 'clock the next day. He was too tired from the stress of the past week to stay up any later. And his math class began at seven in the morning. He thought it was insane, but better to get it out of the way first thing so he could concentrate on other classes. As he drifted into the darkness of sleep, he was barely aware of the room door opening, some distant voices, a soft thump, and then; nothing.

Tod was bordering on exhausted. The day had been spent running students around campus, answering questions, making it breathlessly to his own classes, and then right back into the duties of a student ambassador. The worst part of the day was when Virgil, one of the other ambassadors, had made some lame excuse at the last minute, and Tod had gotten stuck conducting a tour for a group of junior high students. He had missed lunch, and his routine of a quick run, some weight work and a swim, had caused him to miss dinner as well.

With growling thoughts that echoed his growling stomach, he managed to find a bowl of noodles from a closing restaurant in the SUB, half of which he ate, and, gagging on the foul aftertaste, threw the rest away in the nearest green trash can. He was still hungry as he dragged his way up the stairs of the dorm and entered his room. He stopped short in the doorway at the sight of a lump in the bed against the far wall. It took him a moment to remember that he had a roommate now. 'How could I forget, it's _him_ after all.'

He closed the door quietly behind him and stood still, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He didn't want to wake Frank up by turning on the overhead. It didn't take him long to dress for bed, quickly brush his teeth, swallowing the large amount of saliva and toothpaste as he didn't have the energy to walk to the nearest restroom, and climb into his bed as softly as he could. As soon as his head hit his pillow, his eyes flew open and he was wide awake. 'Damn.' He sat up, cursing the second wind that gripped him suddenly around the throat, throttling him awake.

He reached under his pillow for a book light he kept there, and flicked it to the softest setting. He turned the light until it shone across the room and barely illuminated the sleeping form. 'Frank Hardy,' his nostrils flared and he bit down hard on the inner corners of his mouth in order to still his pounding heart, 'You're finally here.' The bundle stirred slightly, and Tod flicked the light off, waiting calmly to see what would happen next. When nothing did, he slid the light back under his pillow and laid down. He stared at a ceiling that was too dark to see, mulling things over in his mind.

'Now that he's here, it'll just be a few more weeks until I can finally -' his hands had been clenched into fists, and he forcibly relaxed them, 'Just a few more weeks. We can play nice until then.' He ran over his plan again, for the million and first time, seeing it's flaws and calculating himself around them. If he could be friends with Frank Hardy, then everything would work out alright. It was just for a few weeks. He could be a friend for a few weeks, couldn't he?


	5. Chapter 5

"Savages"

Chapter Five

"No way! It's too embarrassing!"

Odette laughed, "Aw, come on, we did ours, now it's your turn."

Piper covered her face with her hands, "Whose idea was this anyway?"

Adele waved her cell phone in the direction of her reluctant friend, "You're the one who wanted to look up story prompts, it's only fair that you act out an opening line too." The three girls had the common room all to themselves and were sprawled out over three different armchairs. It had all started when Piper, to help Odette with her writer's block, suggested using an online plot generator to get the creative juices flowing. Somehow that had progressed into generating opening lines, and then into acting out the most ridiculous of the prompts. They each took turns choosing lines for one another to act out, and had already played several rounds, but this last one as a little more than Piper expected. 'Of course, Odette would pick that one!' She whimpered.

"If you're that nervous then hurry and do it while there's no one here!"

Adele nodded in agreement with her sister, "The sooner you do it the sooner it will be over." Piper sighed, "Fine, but just so you know," here she glared at Odette, "I am sooooo getting you back for this." Odette's grin wrinkled her nose which caused her eyes to twinkle in what Piper was sure was wicked delight. Standing up, and quickly looking around to make sure there was no one about to walk into the room, she tugged at her shirt until the tops of her breasts were exposed and cleared her throat.

"Wait!" Odette leapt up and passed her something, "Use this, too." Piper opened her hand to find a lollipop. She flushed. 'Oh, god.' Sighing, she unwrapped the treat and, swallowing hard, turned herself into a sexy goddess. Wrenching the hairband from her ponytail, she let her curls tumble down and shook them back. She cocked one hip and hooked one thumb into the waistband of her jeans before thrusting out her chest.

"Do you," she stuck the lollipop into her open mouth, and rolled her tongue around it suggestively, "Find me delicious yet?" The sisters hooted and laughed, and then went deathly still. Piper's eyes darted from one to the other, "What? Was that not good enough? Should I try again?" Odette pulled her mouth in a straight line and widened her eyes motioning with her hand low in her lap for Piper to turn around. She did so. And died.

Standing in the doorway, stock still and looking somewhere between startled and amused, was Tod. His cheeks were pink, but Piper could feel herself starting to burn all over. She whipped around, sat down hard, and tugged her shirt up to cover herself. The lollipop was still in her hand and she concentrated on it until she heard Tod leave the room. For a few rapid heartbeats there was silence. Then, the twins exploded.

"Oh my god!" Odette was laughing so hard she bent over her knees, "Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! You should've seen your face!"

Piper wailed, "He's never going to look at me the same again!"

Adele wiped at the tears rolling down her face, "Oh, I'm sure he won't!" Her tone fluctuated to make an insinuation, and she fell against her sister, in another burst of laughter. Piper tucked up her knees and buried her face in them with the tops of her ears still burning. "I hate you both _so_ much right now." The laughter slowly subsided and Piper lifted her head. Odette shimmied her chest in Piper's direction, and Piper hid her head again as the two girls fell into another fit of laughter.

Tod closed the door to his room, relieved to find that he was the only one home. He didn't think he could face another human being in his current state. "What the hell was that?" It was clear he had walked in on something, and now he couldn't get what he had seen out of his head. It played over and over like a movie scene on a loop. Her small body flaunting its womanly curves, hair cascading like liquid fire over her shoulders and down her back. Her voice. He leaned back heavily against the door and swallowed hard. That voice, low and sultry. "Do you find me delicious yet?" She had been holding a lollipop, and he could only imagine what she had been doing with it…doing _to_ it. He groaned. "Shower, I need a shower. Yeah." As cold as he could get it.

It helped, even if he was quaking by the end of it, his muscles violently trying to generate heat. And while it didn't fully wipe away the memory, it at least erased the physical response. After getting dressed, he decided to get out of the building. Just to make sure he didn't run into her again. He had just turned to open the room door when it suddenly swung inward, catching him hard on a cheekbone. "Fuck!" He clapped a hand to his face, trying to breathe through the ringing. "Jesus Christ, Frank!"

"Shit! Man, I'm sorry!" Frank hastily moved into the room, leaving the door open and spouting continual apologies. Tod squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then maneuvered past his roommate and out into the hall. "It's whatever." And he closed the door with a firm thunk.

Frank mentally berated himself for not being more careful. He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he had forgotten to open the door slowly. Seven weeks into the semester and he and Tod had already had a few close calls with that door. He was sure Tod was going to have a nice facial bruise in the morning. He spent a few more minutes, pulling things out of his backpack and hoping that something this small wasn't going to be a cause of tension in his and Tod's friendship. Tod wasn't petty, but still.

Calculator, compass, pencil case, notebooks, and three large textbooks were soon piled on his desk. He surveyed the items and wondered, not for the first time, how his back wasn't suffering more from carrying the extra weight around all day. He inhaled, reached up as far as his upper body could stretch, and exhaled, twisting his torso sharply to the left. Several satisfying pops issued from around his spine, and he repeated the maneuver in the opposite direction with a deeper resonating crack that left his lower back feeling relieved. Bad practice, he knew, but it felt so damn good!

He quickly changed into some gym clothes, pulling on sweatpants over his gym shorts to combat the shifting fall temperatures, and headed out. He had worked out some semblance of a daily routine: shower, classes, lunch, classes, change clothes, gym, and homework. It wasn't a static routine, sometimes homework had to be completed before all else, including meals on occasion; but he tried to stick to the same activities. At least enough to get some exercise. Even if it meant just getting in a quick run around the back half of campus.

He ran into someone at the entrance to the gym. "Hey, Frank, how are ya?" Frank slapped the shoulder of his greeter, "Busy, Red. You?"

Cooper "Red" Johnson pulled open one of the gym's front doors, "Buried man, fat buried. Feels like my freakin' head's gonna explode." Frank had gotten to know Red through a group of guys who played pickup games both in the gym and on the outdoor fields and courts close to the gym building. Tod had been right. Red was a sore loser. And he had a temper. But what he lacked in character he made up for in skill and enthusiasm as it was rare that he did lose.

They met two more of their group on their way up to the second floor where the bulk of the exercise equipment was kept. Declan Wood, a giant of a man of Nordic descent, grabbed Red in a playful hug that looked like it was going to crush the life out of the smaller man. Red swatted at the great, meaty arms, "DC, for the love of GOD! I can't BREATHE!" Several weeks prior Frank had discovered that the two men had gotten to know each other through wrestling meets in their school districts. They had become friends after Red had held out the longest against Declan in a match. Declan still joked about how it felt like he had been laying on a grain of rice when he had finally flattened the feisty Red.

The second was the pale Cory Parks. At nineteen he was the youngest of their group and has a severe phobia of spiders. Frank had only witnessed one incident in which the teen had been reduced nearly to tears when a stray spider had wandered over the tabletop during lunch. Frank had abstained from commenting as he removed the offending creature but Red, who had also been present, had been merciless. Cory was wearing a remarkably thin tank-top in bright green, and he was walking towards the back hall which housed some studio spaces. "Zumba." Was his answer when questioned about his work-out goals for the day.

"Now," Red ran both hands over his mohawk to flatten it, "I've got a date tonight, so let's get this party started!" Frank was all for it. The week had been a little more stressful than usual and he had been looking forward to a hard workout to distract himself. True to form, Red raged through his workout, beating his usual running time on the treadmill, and having to be reminded to take it slow with the weights. He had muttered the whole time about what he was going to do for his date. "You don't have anything planned?" Frank asked. Red scrubbed his hands through his sweat-dampened hair, "I thought I did, but now I don't know. She likes too many things; I can't pick just one thing to do."

"What has she been talking about lately? If it's on her mind, then you should do something having to do with it."

"She did mention a new exhibit at the inner-city museum that she's been wanting to see." Red was now mopping his face with the bottom half of his t-shirt. "Some sort of color show. It doesn't really make sense to me, but," he sighed, "She's just so damn fine." He grinned, sweat trickling down from his hairline. He turned to look at Frank, "You ever have a girl that you'd do anything for?" Frank swallowed. He should've known this would come up. Despite his being teased on how all the girls seemed to be falling for him, he had managed to avoid talking about girlfriends until now. Now. How should he answer? "Don't you have to get ready?"

Red slapped his knees and stood. "Yep, shower time!" Frank watched him leave, breathing slowly at the thought of the narrow escape. How much longer? He jumped onto the nearest treadmill, intent on driving the thoughts from his mind. He hit the manual program button, and soon worked himself up into a full out run. He concentrated on every tiny detail of the exercise. The rubbing of his clothing against his hot skin, the way air dragged through his mouth and into his lungs, how hot his feet were getting as they pounded away in his shoes. His pounding heart. Pounding. Pounding. Pounding…_"I wish I had never met you, Frank Hardy."_

Frank tripped, jerking the safety cord out of the machine when he brought his hands down to catch himself on the supporting arms of the console. He spread his legs to stand outside the track, and bent over, breathing hard. Each breath brought the walls in closer, until he felt like he was being crushed. He had to get out. Out. Away somewhere. Somewhere where he could be alone. _"You'll be better off alone, seeing as you seem to prefer it that way anyway."_ He would not cry. He was tougher than that. He snatched his bag and made his way to the showers.

His knees were weak, and his muscles were beginning to seize when he finally stepped into the small cubical shower stall and pulled the thin plastic curtain closed. He turned the handle of the shower until it showed the fiery symbol of a sun. The heat would help his muscles relax and he could wash the stink off him. _"Do you hate me so much that you can't even look at me?"_ He felt his lip twist, his nostrils flare, and his eyes start to sting.

_SCRAPE! Callie leaned over the table, her shoulders and chest heaving, her white-knuckled fists pressed against the tabletop. "I can't wait anymore," her voice was low and cracking, "Ever since Iola died you've been pulling farther and farther away from me. I need you. I need you to be a partner, I need to be able to count on you and for you to count on me, to truly be there for one another. And I," tears slipped down her face, "I need to have a physical relationship, Frank." She passed a hand over her face to wipe away the tears. "And now you're going to be in college full time, and I have this great study opportunity in California, the distance will be even larger between us and I don't think this can go on." _

_Her voice stopped quavering, and she slowly stood up with her shoulders back. "Well, I'm done trying to convince you that this is a love relationship. You'll be better off alone, seeing as you seem to prefer it that way anyway." Callie swallowed hard, her pretty throat choking out her next words, "I used to love you so much, I would've done anything for you. But now," her eyes filled again, "I wish I had never met you Frank Hardy." _

Frank was crying now, his tears mixing with the rivulets of shower water running down his face. He pressed his forehead to the gleaming, cold tiles, willing himself to stop feeling this way, to stop remembering. He had never before wished to drown himself in drugs or alcohol, but now he could think of nothing else but diving deep into some glass and just forgetting. Just for a little while.

He was done. His eyes dry, his body clothed, and now he was standing under one of the mounted hair dryers, letting the warm roaring of the air wrap around his head and rattle his brain. It has been six months since Callie Shaw had walked out of his life and onto a boat somewhere on the Californian coast; and he still thought about her nearly everyday. And it was painful. Even though he understood, it was still painful.

He had only been back in the room long enough to drop everything and flop on his bed before Tod returned. It was still light out, but the hallway light backlit him in such a way that when he stopped just inside the door, Frank couldn't make out his face. They remained that way for a moment, Frank on his bed, and Tod standing in the doorway, his face hid ominously in shadow. "Come on," Tod spoke first. He picked up Frank's jacket from where he had hung it on the back of his chair, and tossed it to him. Frank slowly moved to stand up. "Where are we going?"

"Out for drinks."

"I don't think I want –"

"Then you're buy'n me one." They moved out into the hallway and Frank could see that the red swelling stood out harshly across Tod's cheek bone. "T' make up for this." Here Tod grinned and pointed to his injured face. Frank's lips twitched. "You're going to milk me for that, huh?" The door swung shut behind them. "Ya know it!" It seemed like Tod wasn't upset at all. Frank felt his shoulders start to loosen as he followed his roommate - friend - down the stairs and out into the growing dark.

Tod returned to find Frank lounging on the bed. Not lounging - moping. He stood for a moment, contemplating, calculating. This might be just the opening he needs to set his plan into motion. Yes. It was time. "Come on." He grabbed Frank's jacket off of the desk chair, and with some constraint, managed to gently toss the garment to him. Frank stood slowly, as if he didn't want to be moving. "Where are we going?"

"Out for drinks."

Frank hesitated. "I don't think I want –" Tod cut him off. "Then you're buy'n me one." Nothing was going to stop him now that he had begun. He put on a smile and jokingly pointed to the sore spot on his own face, "T' make up for this." He watched carefully as Frank started to smile, responding to the teasing tone in his voice. "You're going to milk me for that, huh?" Tod turned to close the door, not wanting Frank to see any drift of emotion that might cross unexpectedly. "Ya know it!" He turned back around and, playfully knocking into Frank with his shoulder, moved to take the lead.

'Just keep smiling,' He grit his teeth together, the corners of his mouth stretching too tight across his face. `We've been doing so well playing buddy. Just gotta keep going.' He thought of the date he'd set. His deadline. 'Almost there.'


	6. Chapter 6

"Savages"

Chapter Six

"So this is where we're going?" Frank looked up at the smooth faced building. Outside there were large electric heaters in the shape of torches, a patio that was half full of people, and the word "Harley's" etched in silver on the large sign above the double glass doors. Their journey had taken them off campus and down a couple of blocks before Tod had turned to face this structure. "Yep. Best place for some good eats and their drinks are pretty good too." He opened the door and motioned towards the warm inviting smells. "Well, come on." 'For better or worse', Frank thought as he entered the building. Behind him, Tod's smile turned feral.

They made their way to a mostly full bar. Tod took the first seat, and Frank had to squeeze himself between his friend and a rather hefty man on another stool. The marble bar top was cool underneath his hands and he wondered what it would feel like to lay his face against it. Tod was already showing his ID to one of the bartenders, a tall, thin man dressed all in black, button-down shirt and matching slacks, and wearing what must be eyeliner. They were discussing drinks. Tod jerked his head in Frank's direction. The bartender pivoted and, was it his imagination or did the bartender just cock his hip? As soon as the bartender spoke, Frank knew.

"Do we have a favorite?" The voice was smooth and had a feminine lilt. Frank wasn't prejudiced, at least, he did his best not to be. But he did wonder, just for a moment, if Tod had taken him to a gay bar. While he didn't respond right away Tod reached over and slapped his arm. "Don't leave the guy hangin', Frank. Alexi is the best bartender for miles, jeest tell 'im whatcha want."

"I don't know." The answer fell out of his mouth. He really didn't. He'd only ever drank once, and that had been two watered down glasses of wine when he was in Death Valley seven months ago. Just before Callie had - _'Screw it.'_ "Whatever's strongest." If he was going to drink, he was going to make it count. Tod laughed. "Let's start with a shot of Black Spice 'n see how we go from there." Alexi was back before Frank finished struggling his ID back into his wallet. He set down four glasses: two shot glasses filled with a dark liquid, and two slightly larger glasses full or what could be water.

"There you are boys, drink up."

Tod took one of each of the glasses and raised the dark one. Frank followed his example. "To a future free of midterms." Frank laughed ruefully as they toasted. Midterms were the following week. "To Friday nights!" They drank. As soon as the liquid hit his throat it started a burning that didn't cease even once it reached his stomach. He downed the water, and that helped. "Wow!" Tod was looking at an appetizer menu. "Ya hungry, Frank?" Already the alcohol was making him feel warm. He nodded. "Yeah, I could eat." They ordered a plate of tiny taquitos, and some mozzarella sticks. Their second round of shots came faster than the appetizers.

Ten minutes later Frank was feeling really good. All the tension had drained from his body and he was marveling at the looseness he felt in his hips. If he had known what an amazing thing rum is, he might have started drinking sooner. Tod was laughing over something Alexi said to him in passing and Frank was trying to decide whether to ask him a question, when someone tapped his arm. "Can you pass that napkin dispenser, please?" He knew that voice, "Hiya, Piper, yeah I can do that for you." He handed the startled Piper the napkins. "Hey, Tod, look who it is." At the mention of his name Piper turned a bright red and, was it his imagination or where Tod's cheeks also pink?

"Hi, Piper." Tod was smiling, "Are you here alone?" Piper's own smile was shy, and she shook her head, motioning behind and to the left. Both men turned to see a group of students seated around one of the larger tables. There were familiar as well as unfamiliar faces in the group. Odette, seated next to the mournful looking Red, waved enthusiastically to them. "We all just came from the museum. We met Odette and Red while we were there and thought we'd stop for a bite before heading back to campus." Frank laughed. Red did not look happy to be there. _'He should get a drink.'_

"Well," Piper shifted nervously, "Thanks for the napkins." She hurried back to the table. Frank turned to see Tod watching her leave, a rather warm smile on his face. He knew it. "You like her." It was a statement, not a question, but Tod shook his head. Alexi, serving someone next to them cooed, "Does our Tod finally have a girl?" Tod shook his head harder, "Nope, no way. She's not fine - mine - she is fine, just -" he laughed, pushing himself away from the bar, "I'm gonna stop talking now." He left, gesturing to the restroom sign as way of explanation of his departure.

"Smitten," Frank commented to Alexi. Alexi poured another requested drink. "There goes my chance at him. But she is a cute little darling." Moved away. Came back. "Loves her pina coladas." Frank stared at his still full glass. His head felt weird, like it was too heavy for his neck. "Do she and Tod come here often?" He leaned over the bar, "Do they come together?" Alexi laughed, and wiped his hands on his apron. "Yes and no. They both come often enough, but never together. Tod actually comes in here more often than the little redhead." Frank was feeling too warm, he wondered if he should take his shirt off. "He doesn't seem like he would drink a lot."

"Who, Tod?" Alexi removed some nearby empty glasses to the sink below the bar and began rinsing them, "It's surprising how much alcohol that man can put away. And he holds it well, I've only seen him dead drunk once since he moved here." Frank waited, knowing from his experience in detective work that if he stayed silent there was a chance Alexi might tell him more. Alexi did not disappoint. "I don't know what got him so upset, but he stormed in, sat here at the bar, and drank himself sick. Thank god it happened half an hour to close and I was able to take him out with me." Alexi moved away to answer the hail of another customer down the bar. When he came back he had a damp cloth in his hand and was wiping down the bar top. "He didn't have anything on him to tell me where he lived so I ended up taking the poor thing home." He smiled, winking at Frank, "He was the first man I've taken home who wasn't a lover."

Frank watched as Alexi's knuckles paled as he scrubbed a particularly sticky spot just to the right of where he was sitting. His head inclined slightly, listening to the barking of orders from the wait staff to other bartenders, requesting drinks that made him question his knowledge of the English language. A moment later Alexi was seated next to him, having been tapped out by another man clad all in black. "Standing for hours is killer on the feet," he winced as he rolled his neck, "I'm going to need a pedicure and a full body massage after this." They were both quiet as the sounds of conversing diners rose around them accompanied by the clinking of glasses and laughter.

"Frank," Alexi's voice was low, "I'm only telling you this because you and he seem to be really close. And I think someone needs to know." He picked imaginary lint from his shirt before turning his dark, serious eyes to Frank's own. "While he was drunk Tod told me a little something of his childhood. A story about how he had cried when he found a dead animal in the woods and how his father…" his voice faltered for a moment, "...Tod has scars, Frank." He breathed out, letting the unspoken words be buoyed by the ambient sound before they sank beneath it.

Tod returned to find Frank and Alexi seated next to one another. Walking up behind them he draped his arms across both their shoulders. "What'd I miss?" Frank shook his floppy head. "Lexi was saying how I should stop drinking, before I'm drunk. I think he's too late." "Lexi" smiled at him. "And that's my five minutes. Good night boys." Tod plucked at his sleeve as he rose to leave. "The usual last one?" Tod nodded wordlessly. "Coming right up." Frank didn't have to wonder long as to what Alexi meant by "usual last one". Another shot glass was placed in front of him. Tod already had his in his hand, "To good dreams." Frank raised his, "To good friends." He was too busy knocking back to notice the grimace that crossed Tod's face. This liqueur tasted different. It was almost thick. "What is it?"

Tod was pulling out payment, "Jägermeister. 'S good for sleep." He was done. Any more than that and he might not be able to retain control. He'd already slipped. He didn't think Frank had noticed, and if he had hopefully it would be chalked up to the heavy taste of the Jager. But still. Frank was sufficiently drunk, and after all that rum, the Jager would make him forget a little. Tod was looking forward to asking some questions.

He guided the shaky Frank towards the door, calling back his goodbyes to the bartenders and received some answering goodbyes from a few happy drunks. They passed the student group on the way and he had the strongest urge to wink at Piper, so he did. She smiled back. _'So fuckin' cute!'_ How he hadn't seen how cute she was before struck him as odd. He'd have to get her number. Frank stopped suddenly in the doorway. "I forgot to pay." Tod shoved him forward, "No, you paid earlier." Frank protested, "But this last one—" Shove. "I took care of it."

"But I was supposed to treat you—" Hard shove. "Out!" They stumble through the door, Frank in front, Tod steering him with both hands on his shoulders. As the pair began to weave their way back to campus Tod carefully started the next part of his plan. "You ever been out drinkin' before?" Frank shook his head and staggered, "Nope. Can't say I have."

"Really?" Tod pretended to be surprised, "Not even with your brother?"

"Joe doesn't drink anymore, way too much one time. Got in a loooooot of trouble." Tod was surprised at that. He had always read how upstanding the Hardy boys were, never into drugs, alcohol, no trouble outside of what they got into in order to close a case. That one of these uptown snotnoses had fallen into something like alcohol abuse made him feel just a little better. But it was not enough. _'Not nearly enough.'_ "'N your Dad don't drink neither?"

"Oh, Dad drinks on occasion, nothing much. Scotch I think." Frank wrinkled his nose. "Weird stuff." He started to laugh, leaning sharply. Tod pushed him upright. This was going to be such a chore. "I think you're Dad 's pretty cool," he swallowed, trying to rid himself of the nasty taste of those words, "I read that he's a great detective, that he's stopped a lot of bad people from doin' bad things." Frank laughed harder. "Bad people from doing bad things!" Tod rolled his eyes. "I drank somethin' okay." But that question was enough. Frank started to talk about the various cases his father had been instrumental in closing.

Tod kept prodding him. Had his dad ever killed someone? How many? Did he kill kids? Did he ever kill anyone in front of a kid, or kill a parent? Frank had nodded or shaken his head, or shrugged his shoulders when he wasn't sure. One thing he was sure about though. His father had never killed anyone in front of a child. _'Liar.'_ Or maybe Frank didn't know what his father had done. It didn't matter. He was still to be punished. The sins of the father. Tod tilted his face to the dark sky and grinned. "That girl looks like my girlfriend." Tod turned back to his roommate. "What?"

Frank was squinting ahead of them. "That girl up there looks a lot like my girlfriend." He shook his head, "She's not my girlfriend anymore. I don't know why I said that." Tod laughed, "Cause you're drunk!" Frank had stopped smiling, and Tod wondered if Frank was going to turn out to be a soppy drunk after all. "I wonder what she's doing now." Frank tugged at the neckline of his jacket, "Probably on some boat somewhere, dragging the bottom of the ocean for nasty shit." Tod decided to play along. The more information he had the better. "Why would she do that?" Frank sniffed, "She's studying to be a marine biologist. Focusing on the effect of global warming on marine microorganisms."

"Sounds like pretty interestin' stuff," Tod mused. Frank continued, talking about how great his girlfriend Callie was and how she had stuck with him through some hard times. "'S how come ya'll ain't datin' nomore?" They were almost to the dorms. "Don't want to talk about it." But Tod knew something that Frank didn't. Alcohol had a way of giving up your secrets. "It started when Joe's girlfriend, Iola, died in a car bomb." Tod began to listen more intently. He had read about that. Some criminal organization had been involved, and the man responsible for Iola's death had fallen to his demise from the top of a building. "I was scared the same thing would happen to Callie. I started distancing myself from her, so she wouldn't get hurt." Frank was swallowing hard. _'Tears?'_ "I guess I did that too much."

The conversation carried them through the front doors and up the stairs of the dorm building. She and Frank started to have fights. All stemming through his fragile treatment of her and how it bled into other areas of their relationship. Eventually it became attacks on character, how he was a flake and a coward and how he was holding her back from seeking her own career. He hadn't been kind either. He had accused her of being too butch, and for not understanding his lifestyle and how he had already set his career and he wasn't going to change just to please her. Frank was crying. He hadn't meant it. He never meant it. But they had split up anyway. Now Callie was living in California, going after her dream, and he was here, on the other side of the States, and they hadn't talked to each other in over six months.

Though he made overtures of sympathy for the other man's experience, Tod felt almost gleeful. Any pain that Frank felt was a balm on his own wounds. He guided the now-nearly-comatose Frank to their room and into bed. Frank managed to take off his jacket and shoes, but fell into bed fully clothed. Tod was himself feeling the pull of the combined darkness of drink and sleep. A potent combination. But he wasn't going to go to bed in his clothes.

He turned his back to the room and proceeded to strip off his shirt, pants, and shoes. He liked his feet warm, so he kept his socks on. And shorts would work for pajamas. He had no energy for anything else. He struggled into his bunk bed, and dropped into a black, dreamless sleep. Frank was not asleep. Not yet. He was trying to make sense of something he saw. _'So tired.'_ It was something...something...terrible. The next morning, he couldn't remember what it was.

Frank was late to wake the next morning. Tod was still in bed when Frank struggled out of bed with the strong urging of nature tugging him out the door and down to the bathrooms. When he returned, Tod was dressed and making up his bed. "Mornin'. How ya feeling?" Frank took a moment to access. Despite everything, he was feeling oddly refreshed. Like he'd just came out of the best sleep of his life. Tod laughed at his answer. "That's Jager for ya! I once knew a guy who drank a shot every night just so he could sleep."

"What do you think of a camping trip after midterms?" It was eleven in the morning and they were on their way in search of an early lunch, or a late breakfast. Frank ruffled his hair, he needed a cut, "A camping trip? Where'd we even go, it's at least an hour's drive just to get out to the nearest foothill." Tod stuffed his hands in his pockets. "It wouldn't be hard. We could invite the guys 'n make it a big deal. Declan 's got his own car, 'n so do you. We could carpool up the Dee and sit it out by the lake. 'S got good fishin', 'n there's good hike trails." Frank puffed out his cheeks, "Isn't it supposed to get cold this week?" Tod rolled his eyes. "It won't be _that_ cold. Jesus. 'N we gotta four-day weekend."

Frank thought about it as they entered the SUB and strolled to the cafeteria. "We really haven't had a break yet, have we?" He shrugged, "Could be fun. Let's ask them." Tod was already texting, and within a few minutes his phone was dinging. "Red's down." Another ding, "So's Declan." Ding! "Cory wants to, but he's gotta midterm Saturday morning, so he might join us later, if Declan would give him a ride? Goddammit." Tod glanced sideways at Frank. "You wanna go up on Friday anyway? Get the lay of the land 'fore the guys get there?"

They were both distracted by the sight of food, so Frank didn't answer until after they had grabbed some tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. "Do we need a fishing license?" Tod shrugged, "It only costs thirty for three days. 'N we don't have to fish the whole time." Frank chewed his way through half his sandwich. Tod was enjoying dipping his into the soup. "So, thirty bucks, and a day to fish without embarrassing myself? Yes. Let's do it." Tod set down his water. "I'm volunteering at the haunted house that night, but we can leave straight after my shift." Frank nodded and turned his head to look out at the rest of the early lunch crowd. Tod couldn't help himself and let a truly delighted smile spread across his face. _'Just a little farther.'_


	7. Chapter 7

"Savages"

Chapter Seven

Piper was distracted. She was supposed to be studying for her German midterm, and the material was tough enough that she needed all of her concentration to read through her notes, but...she sighed. He had been drunk. He must have been drunk. There was no other reason that he would've winked at her. It couldn't have meant anything. Could it? She stopped. She was biting her nails again. The pretty pink paint was dented and chipped. She'd need to get acrylics if this was going to keep happening. Did she have time for an appointment this week?

"Are you alright?" Allison was staring at her from across the room. Her eyes looked a little glazed, like they normally did whenever she was reading a person's "aura". "You're all yellows and pinks." Piper buried both hands in her long, red curls. "I don't know what that means!" Allison's comments had been more and more confusing lately. And Piper was tired of having to look up aura colours when her friend wasn't around. "It means," Allison began calmly, "That you could be stressed from studying too much," Piper snorted, "And that you're having romantic feelings." Piper sighed even deeper this time. "I don't think you really need to read my aura to figure the first part out."

"And the second part?" Allison was drawing, making sweeping arm movements across the large drawing pad she had propped up on her "environment-friendly" pillow. "Are you having romantic feelings?" Piper wanted to cry. She wasn't sure what she was feeling. Could she and Tod be a couple? She wanted to be a couple. But she had no clue how Tod felt, whether or not he liked her, whether or not he'd like to date, whether or not he'd want to- she cut off the thought. She shouldn't go down that road yet. "I think I am. It's just confusing and I don't know what to do." She picked up her pencil and stabbed it at a spot on her spiral-bound notepad. "I think I want to ask Tod out on a date, but shouldn't he be the one doing the asking?"

"Who said that it should be the boy who does the asking?" Allison was rummaging through a large canvas bag, "I've always thought that whoever is interested should do the asking, regardless of gender." She pulled out a large box set of markers. They looked familiar to Piper. "Are those Odette's?" Allison nodded, removing the top of the case and running her fingers sensually across the barrels of the many marker shades. "She's letting me borrow them for today. I'm working on a poster proposal for the new ceramics club, and I wanted to get a feel for the scale before submitting the digital version." Piper blinked. She knew Allison was involved with the ceramics art division, but she didn't realize there was such a thing as a ceramics club. "What does the club do?"

Allison selected two markers in a vibrant red and orange. "They sell their creations to support inviting artists to give workshops every semester, and fund a trip to the yearly national ceramics conference. They also work to donate dishware to the local homeless shelters and food pantries." Piper was surprised. She didn't know what to expect when she asked the question, but she wasn't expecting that answer. "They seem to do a lot." Allison nodded, and turned back to her work before returning to the previous conversation.

"What else are you confused about, with Tod?" Allison felt the hairs on her back stand up. She always felt uneasy whenever Tod Hardey was brought up in conversation, or when she met him out and about on campus. How could she make her friend understand that it was not a good idea to get involved with him? She didn't want to see Piper get hurt, and Tod was...she shivered. How could she put it into words? Colours didn't make sense to Piper, but that was the only way Allison knew how to describe it. Layers of cloudy reds, and blues, and blacks and other colours indicating deceit, deep-seated anger, and other unpleasant things. They far outweighed the bright reds, oranges, and yellow-greens that denoted his better qualities. And she didn't want to confuse Piper with terms like "receptive" and "expressive" when it came to the past, present, and future actions and purposes. There was one positive thing Allison could say about Tod. He was remarkably well-versed at hiding himself. She suspected that he had years of practice.

When Piper didn't answer her right away, Allison stopped what she was doing and turned to look at her roommate. She saw flashes of bright red warming Piper's already bright aura. Her heart sank a little. Piper was definitely in love with Tod. She wondered briefly what Tod's aura would look like if he interacted with Piper. She'd have to be there next time to observe. "The thing is," Piper finally answered, "I have no clue whether or not he actually likes me, or would want to go out, or maybe just become closer friends? I want to get to know him more, he just seems so closed off somehow." Ah, maybe her friend wasn't completely clueless, Allison mused. "Just ask," she counseled, "the worst thing he can say is no." Piper teared up, "No, the worst thing he could say is 'Why would I want to go out with a slut like you'." Allison watched the tears that were rolling down Piper's pink, freckled cheeks. She had heard of the escapade in the common room, but Piper was prone to self-deprecating and that incident had prompted the occasional comment about the possible visual that her acting had presented. Allison knew what to do. She reached over to her bedside table, flicked on her waterless diffuser, and pulled a bar of orange infused chocolate out of the top drawer. "Here."

Piper shook her head, but leaned over the end of her desk and took the chocolate anyway. Her skin reacted badly whenever she ate chocolate, but she needed the comfort. The citrus burst in her mouth, followed by the smooth darkness of the bitter chocolate. "Thank you, Allison." Her roommate nodded and turned back to her work. Piper took a deep breath, recognising her roommate's go-to diffusing concoction. It was a mixture of peace and energy. The one was supposed to calm fearful thoughts and anxious feelings while the other was to clear the fogged mind and provide energy for tasks. She liked to think it was working, she was at least feeling a little calmer and now felt like she could work on her studies. Now, where was she? Ah, Ess und Trinkkultur des Deutschlandes. She sniffled back the last of her tears, and began reading.

Tod was struggling with his costume. It should've been simple to put on. Good thing this was just a dress rehearsal and he had the time to work out all the kinks before Friday's big performance. He smoothed the thick fabric over his torso, and swung the black, ragged cape around his shoulders. And now. He picked up the heavy mask from his desk and strapped it to his head. Ok. Now, where was that mirror? He turned around, a little disoriented with the mask blocking most of his peripheral vision, and approached the full-length mirror standard on the back of all dorm room doors. Creepy.

The full-face mask, yellowed ivory with deep grooves of dirty grey and black spidering around the eyeholes was ominous in its emotionless appearance. He reached behind him to pull up the hood of his cape to complete the look. There. Death personified. And rather well too. The lowered brow bones and deep cheek hollows emphasised the appearance of the prominent, clenched teeth. Teeth that were a little longer, and a little sharper than a human teeth ought to have been. And if he arranged his hood, and tipped his head just...there! He grinned behind the mask. He was going to scare the living shit out of people.

He was just divesting himself of the costume, it was unbearably hot in the thick, heavy fabric and suffocating mask, when Frank walked in. 'Shit,' Tod frowned to himself, 'He's not supposed to see this.' Served him right for not trying the costume on in the props room back at the haunted house. "Hey!" Frank was excited. "Is that your costume for that thing on Friday?" Tod prickled, "The Haunted House. Yes it is." He'd been hoping it would be a surprise. He should've - "Don't you have midterms to complete?" Frank shook his head. "Just two. One later today and another one tomorrow." He was scrambling through some papers on his desk. Tod knew that Frank was normally neat and orderly, but these past weeks had seen him descend into chaos as more and more course work had piled up. "Just going to do some last minute studying at the library." He snatched up a stapled bunch of papers and headed out the door, "See ya!"

Tod listened to the pounding footsteps retreating down the hallway. He sniffed as he gazed into the lifeless eyes of the mask. "We need to play extra nice until Friday." He should stop speaking in the third person. Sir had always said that speaking to yourself in the third person was an early sign of possession. He didn't care. They were so achingly close now, that if he was a little possessed by the end of it, it wouldn't matter. He would have played his part. He stroked the cold, hard skull. What happened to him afterwards didn't matter in the least.

Frank mused to himself that Tod had seemed a little upset at his bursting into the room. Maybe he was having a bad day, or maybe he was embarrassed to have anyone see him in costume, but why would he be embarrassed if Frank saw him in costume? Besides, it wasn't as if he'd seen the whole costume anyway. Just the mask. Some sort of skull. Frank wondered briefly about what his friend would be dressed as, but the doors of the library were swinging open and he had to study just a little more for this test. For the first time in a long time, he was nervous about a test. He hoped his nervousness wouldn't take away from his concentration.

An hour later he was tugging hard on his forelock, the hunk of hair at the center of his forehead, and puzzling out one last mock test problem, when someone bumped the corner of the wooden desk he was sitting at, bringing him out of his concentration. It was Red. "You studyin'?" Frank glared at him, "I was, until," he waved a hand up and down in Red's general direction. "Sorry, dude. I saw you and thought I'd ask - " he moved to one side to let a pair of girls pass by, "A group of us are hitting up that haunted house this Friday, and wanted to see if you'd like to join?" Frank felt like kicking him. "You're bugging me cause you don't want to go to a haunted house alone?" Red grimaced. "Please, there's plenty of us going already. Just thought you'd like to get the shit scared out of you with everyone watching on."

Frank ran through his schedule: energy midterm today, advanced trig tomorrow, and Friday he was...free? He was free, but Tod and he were heading up to the mountains later that night. After Tod finished with the haunted house. Why not? He shrugged, "Sure. It'll be fun. Get to see if this haunted house is really living up to all the hype. Is it true that some of the characters single you out for "personalized" haunting?" Red grinned, and mock shivered, "Yes, and some of them even grab you and drag you in as a live body." He laughed. "You actually have to sign a release form before you go in, just in case you come out traumatized!" This seemed to be hilariously funny to him. "They only take in ten at a time. Just in case anyone freaks out. You should've been there last year!"

Frank waved the excitable Red off, he now only had twenty minutes left before he needed to be packed up and on his way to the Testing Center across campus. That time passed quickly and he soon found himself in the Testing Center being told the rules. No phones, calculators were allowed by approval of the course instructor, no notes unless approved by a course instructor, only a pencil/pen and scrap paper came from the testing proctors so there was no chance of sneaking in notes. No food, no water, and all bags and backpacks were to be left with the proctors at the front desk. Frank felt even more nervous than before. He took a deep breath; and stepped to the front of the line. It was his turn.

An hour and a half later, when he finally hit the submit button and pried his stiff body out of the chair, Frank was amazed to find that he had managed to hold it together throughout the test and felt good about the coming results. He retrieved his backpack and phone from the front desk, stepped outside, and stretched up as far as he could. The sun felt good on his bare skin, but there was a slight nip in the air that reminded him that it would be a good idea to start carrying around a jacket. He hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders and yawned. He was starving. But before he could decide whether he wanted to go to the cafeteria or to a nearby pizza parlor his phone rang.

"Hi, Joe."

"I'm baaaaaack!" His brother's voice was loud, excited.

"Wait, what?" Frank was confused, happy, but confused. "I thought you weren't coming back until Thanksgiving?"

"Ok, I'm not home yet," his brother conceded, "But Biff's dad is going in for surgery after all and we decided it would be better if he was there to help out when everything goes down. So, we've moved our flights up to this weekend."

"Is Mr. Hooper ok?" Frank knew that Biff's dad had been diagnosed with a benign brain tumor a year ago, but it had not been large enough to remove as it was in a hard to reach spot. "Yeah, they just said it was the perfect size to go ahead and operate on now, so, yeah." There was some shuffling on the other end of the line, "We're hitting a couple more cities on our own, but then we're flying in on Saturday." Joe and Biff Hooper had gone over to Europe with a group of other young people for an extended train tour. For the past two months they had worked their way through the lower european countries and last Frank had heard they were going to end their tour in Great Britain before flying home. "How's Biff doing with all this?" More phone rustling.

"Hey, dude." It was Biff. "I'm alright, feeling a little bummed, but glad Dad is finally going to have this thing out." There was the sound of the phone being handed off again and Joe got back on. "I swear this traveling is doing something to us, man. I don't really want to go either, but, it's the right thing, right?" Frank smiled. Joe had always been concerned about doing the right thing, sometimes things didn't work out that way, but he had always tried. "Joe, you're doing a good thing." The sigh that followed was one of relief. "I'll drive down and see you when we get back."

"Don't rush. You're going to be crazy jetlagged. I'll be up at Thanksgiving too, so, you know." Actually, he'd love to see the look on his brother's face once he met Tod. He couldn't wait. "Yeah, right. I'll call and let you know, but I'll probably be down Sunday or something. Mom said you have a four day weekend, right? So we can hang out?" Frank decided on pizza, and spent the walk there talking his brother into coming on the camping trip with him and his friends. He was sure the other guys would be fine with it. And Tod. He smiled, and told his brother there was someone Frank was dying to introduce him to. Frank could see their faces now. And probably wearing the same expression! This was going to be fun.

When Frank ran into Declan coming out of the Pie Hole, carrying four boxes of pizza, and told him that Joe might be coming down to join them, Declan's positive reaction reinforced the mental image Frank had of all his friends getting along with his brother and the weekend turning into a funfest. That is, until he got back to the dorm room carrying his own box of pepperoni pizza and mentioned it to Tod. Tod was quiet for a long moment. Frank wondered if Tod had heard him. "I said, my brother is probably coming down for the last two days of our trip. Is that ok with you?" Tod snapped, "Sure it's okay. Why wouldn't it be ok? We're gonna aaaaaaalllll be there together, one biiiiiiiiggg happy family."

Frank blinked. What the hell was wrong with Tod? "If it's not okay I can tell him to hang back-" Tod put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward with a sigh, "Frank, it's fine. I just don't have any extra gear to be lendin' out is all." Frank studied his roommate. That wasn't it. There was something else going on, but Tod clearly wasn't in the mood to discuss it. He took a deep breath, inhaling the spicy aroma coming from the yet, unopened pizza box. He was going to let it alone. He opened the box. "Want a slice?"

Tod shook his head, "Nah, I got some runnin' to do." He stood up, already dressed in a green t-shirt and matching school shorts with black running shoes laced tight to his feet. He needed the air. Now. "I'll see ya later. Hope your test went well." He closed the door behind himself and took off as fast as he could, dodging other students, furniture in the common room, down the stairs and out the front door. Then, he turned for the track that lay behind campus, and he ran. _'Fuck.'_ He had lashed out at Frank. _'Fuck.'_ Had he managed to make his lie believable? _'Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!'_ He wanted to hit something. Hard. All his hard work, and Frank had to go invite his brother to come along. How was he going to work around a nosey brother?

He continued to run, past casual strollers, past people walking their dogs, (one yipped at him annoyingly), and past other joggers and runners until he had burned through nearly all his anger. Then he slowed down and realized that he hadn't even bothered to stretch. _'Fuck.'_ He breathed hard, bending down and letting the blood pound into his head, fuzzing his vision. He needed to think. He straightened up and looked around at the scenery. The trees that lined the track had turned fiery shades of orange, yellow and red. He stared at their shifting leaves, letting the ringing in his ears die away until he could hear the world again.

He could do this. Nothing had happened that he couldn't work around. So the brother might show up. His plan would still work even if Joe Hardy did decide to crash their party. He had two days to work. He had managed to arrange it with Decland, Red and Cory so that they wouldn't show up until around midday on Saturday. He put his hands on his hips and looked up at the blue sky. It didn't matter. His plan would go into motion on Friday night, and by the time anyone realised what was happening it would be too late. He smiled with relief. Nothing he couldn't work around.

He returned in a much cheerier mood than he had left. He found Frank, and two slices of pizza, still chilling out in the room, with Frank lazily flipping through a textbook. "I'll take them two if they're still up for grabs." Frank nodded, and Tod stacked the two pieces one on top of each other and started to eat. "God," he swallowed and licked his lips, "Gotta love thet cheese. So," he took another bite, chewed, swallowed, spoke, "Your brother might be coming down? Just might? Nothing definite?" Frank shrugged. "Well," Tod was hoping to repair whatever damage he might have done previously, "I'm kinda lookin' forward to seein' my twin. Be fun. I can ask around to see if anyone's got an extra sleepin' bag or something."

"Joe will be bringing his own stuff." Frank flipped another page in the book, not looking at Tod. "It'll be fine, just need to tell him where we're camping out." Tod swallowed a bit of pepperoni. "Sure," it's not like the place would be too easy to find, "We're going to be up at the first lake up the Dee, before you get to Hernsville." Frank laughed, "I've got no idea where that is." Tod chewed the last of the pizza and turned to head for the bathrooms. "I know."


	8. Chapter 8

Savages

Chapter Eight

It was finally Friday. And good thing too, because Frank was about to lose his mind from stress. Even though there was some relief from having finished all his midterms, he was still in agony waiting for the results to come in. He figured that it wouldn't take long, considering everything had been electronic, but at least two of his midterms had to be personally graded by the instructors and he hadn't had the courage to look at the instant results of one of the others.

The wait until everyone met up to go to the Haunted House seemed to stretch into forever. Frank had done all his washing, that included his bedding, had cleaned and organized his desk, and still had time to play a round or two at the small bowling alley in the SUB. He hadn't seen Tod all day, but he had gotten several texts instructing him to get everything packed and his car parked in the back parking lot for a quick exodus after Tod's shift was over. And he had done that. All his and Tod's camping gear was packed away in the trunk of the little blue Kia Rio that he used only when on big shopping trips, or when carpooling with the guys to some fun get together or other, and he had managed to find a good parking spot at the back of the large gym annex that housed the haunted house.

He was roaming around the library, looking for a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo, he'd been meaning to read it again, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out long enough to see the brightly lit text message and then, without finding his book, made his way down the three flights of stairs and out of the building where he met up with Cory, Red, Declan, and several other students including Piper and the twins. The goth twin, Odette, was hanging on Red's arm and looking excited. "Frank! You ready?" It was Red, looking a little pink around the ears. Odette had that affect on him. It didn't seem to matter that they had been dating for a year and a half already, Red always looked like he was having the best time of his life when Odette was around.

"Bring it on man!" They had all agreed to get something to eat before they went. They wanted to wait until the sun set, to amp up the scare factor. And though Halloween wasn't until tomorrow, half of their group was dressed up in their own costumes. A mummy, a sexy kitty, a Groot, and Odette's face makeup was a gorgeous Skullita. Even Piper was wearing a costume. Frank liked the gold eyeliner she used. Egyptian goddess. He thought Tod might like it too.

It was dusk when they finally made their way to the Kinesiology Department's gym annex. Red hadn't been kidding when he had told Frank that they'd be required to sign a release form before entering. They had just finished signing when a volunteer dressed as a mutilated, blood covered butcher and carrying a dripping chainsaw ushered them forward and through the black draped door. Frank took a deep breath, already feeling the adrenaline crawling up through his stomach. He could hardly wait to see what was in store for them.

They were greeted by fog that creeped over the floorboards and started to rise around their legs. The coldness was the next thing they noticed, followed by the clanking of metal on metal. Or was that metal on bone? Something rustled around their feet. Someone in the front of the group gasped and leapt backward. "Oh my god!" It was the upper half of a human body, dragging itself along on bloody arm stumps, innards trailing along behind it. The mouth opened and thick, black blood oozed out. "Help me," it gasped in a half-choked, raspy voice, "It's coming, help me!" Frank shivered as the group, almost as one entity, sidestepped the whimpering victim, and continued through the room. Oh, god. What were they in for?

Tod had just released a shuddering victim, who ran to catch up with the rest of their party, when the word was whispered to him from another actor that a new group was coming through. He hurried back to his station at the back of the scene near the entrance, and into his fixed, statue position. They entered in timidly, one or two hiding behind their companions and Tod smiled behind his mask. Clearly, they'd met with a few good scares. Then he recognized one of them, and another. And there he was. Frank.

"I don't like this," Odette whispered to Piper, "I don't like it when they play on the cemeteries. Cemeteries aren't meant to be messed with." Piper's teeth were chattering lightly as she answered, "But that's the whole point isn't it? To play with things that you're not supposed to?" The scene was dead quiet, darker than most of the others and the room seemed to be much larger as well. Like the first room they had entered fog rolled over everything and cold chills ran up and down everyone's spine. They paid next to no attention to the statue nearly indistinguishable from the shadows.

They made their way slowly through the room, tense, and waiting, watching for anything that might jump out at them. Piper glanced back the way they had come. That's when she thought that the statue had moved. She turned in response to someone speaking and when she glanced back again, she was certain. The statue had definitely moved. It was closer to the group, but it was absolutely still. No sign of movement even in the fabric of the large cloak that wrapped the figure head to toe. She blinked hard. It's head, previously concealed, was now tilted just a little, and sharp, white teeth were showing. She backed away. And bumped into something that moved. She screamed.

Tod watched as Piper was the first to take notice of his character. He had patterned himself after the Weeping Angels from Doctor Who, moving only when not observed, and steadily moving closer and revealing more of his face as he chose the victim he was to terrorize the most. And Piper had unwittingly volunteered herself. She turned, he moved. She covered her face, he moved. She screamed after bumping into another person in the group and while she was distracted, he moved again, closer.

Now others in the group had noticed, and they were staring at him, their gaze holding him still as the group moved further away. He waited. He wasn't the only "Weeping Angel". Another statue on the other side of the room moved forward, intentionally rattling a bone pile and the entire group turned to face this new threat. Tod and several other "statues" moved positions. When Piper looked around for him, he was right next to her, his full mask revealed under the ghostly pale lighting. She shrieked and clung to the closest person. Frank. _'Hold character,'_ Tod told himself firmly. He didn't even let his eyes shift in their sockets until he was once again unobserved. Somehow, he managed to move ahead of the group, and this freaked them out even more once they noticed.

As far as scares went he thought it was a little lame, but the planning committee had decided on this scene with the addition of leading audio from the original Doctor Who, so that it would amp up those who had seen the series. And for those who didn't, well it was just more eerie music in a dark graveyard where you were stalked by silent, ominous statues. It was all working to the committee's expectation. He'd seen some people crying as they fled in terror. A little blindly, he admitted, the fog got incredibly dense in areas. This was something he was counting on.

After a few more terrifying minutes and the group was almost out the door. Before the last of the group moved past him, Tod brought the blade of the scythe he'd been using as a costume prop, up to block the way. He now had another victim. This one he was excited about. He drew the unfortunate back into the room, and deeper into the fog, explaining in a graveling whisper what the victim's role was to be in the next scene. Normally he would take to chosen one to another scene in the haunted house and have them become part of the attraction, but this was a special case. Frank Hardy was going to star in a scene all his own, for an audience of one.

Frank was just about to step into the next room when a curved, wicked looking blade appeared before his face. The grim reaper, the main figure of this room, had apparently come for his soul. The blade pressed lightly to his throat, prompting him to move backwards into the fog. He almost tripped over a headstone and had to keep himself from crashing into another one of the moving "statues". The grim reaper was whispering instructions to him, explaining that he had been chosen for a special job, that he was going to play a victim that had been kidnapped and was now about to be dismembered.

He wanted to laugh out loud. He'd "played" a kidnap victim so many times in real life that he would have no problem acting it out. The dismembered part was new though. He was led swiftly past the back wall. It was portable, braced away from the actual structure's walls to allow for a bit of a walkway for the characters of the haunted house to move between rooms undetected. This walk was cluttered with boxes of extra props. He was stopped in the middle of this walkway and told that they'd need a few props before they continued.

He was handed two strips of black fabric and told to tie them tight around his eyes and mouth. Laughing, he did so. He didn't suspect anything until after his instructor had arranged his arms behind his back and had bound them. Bound them too tightly. It was the tightness that tripped the alarm bells. He tried not to panic as he rubbed the gag off on his shoulder to tell whoever was beneath the mask that they were pushing it. But his gag was quickly pulled back up and yanked until the fabric was splitting the corners of his mouth. _'NO!'_

Tod's strength was almost not enough to subdue his prisoner once Frank realized what was happening. He had already bound Frank's arms up to the elbows behind his back, which helped, but the athletic young man was kicking out with seeking legs and throwing his shoulders with enough force that had Tod been standing any closer he would've ended up with a sore chin.

The haunted house was so full of screeches, groans, moans and shrieks that no one heard the scuffle; but his work was still cut out for him. After wrapping his own legs around those of his captive, Tod tore the syringe he had prepared out of a hidden pocket in his costume and pulled the collar of Frank's jacket down to get at his neck. Frank bucked, and twisted away, causing Tod to squirt some of the clear liquid into the air. Temper and adrenaline flaring, Tod growled aloud and wrapping his left arm around Frank's right shoulder and neck, drove his knee as hard as he could into Frank's torso.

Frank dropped to the floorboards, groaning and sucking air sharply through his nose as Tod grasped Frank's hair, forcing his head up and back. Before Frank could recover enough to resist, Tod had plunged the needle into his exposed jugular vein. Ignoring Frank's grunt of shocked pain, Tod hurriedly pressed what was left of the sedative into Frank's bloodstream. And as he removed the needle watching as Frank made a weak attempt to get up before toppling over, he hoped there had been enough left to keep his victim quiet. At least until he could get him safely away.

Tod stood for a moment, breathing hard, feeling the sweat run in small rivets behind his grim reaper's mask. Slowly, after placing the spent needle back into the hidden pocket for later disposal, he bent, and using both hands to grasp Frank's belted waistband, began dragging the limp form towards the glowing red "EXIT" sign. It was only once he reached Frank's little blue car that he searched Frank's pockets for a keyring. Once he had the doors unlocked, he tossed the body of his roommate onto the floor of the back seat and used his costume to disguise the space to look like it was full of the typical college student's clutter. Then, he double-checked to make sure all the doors had the child-locks engaged before sliding into the driver's seat and pulling off his mask.

The drive out of the employees' parking lot was short and uneventful. And as he wiped the sweat from his face on the back of a sleeve, he thought ahead to what he had planned for the next several days. With everybody under the impression that he and Frank would be leaving directly after the haunted house for a weekend of camping he knew it wouldn't be until at least tomorrow night before anyone reported them as missing. A light rain began to fall as he turned on his blinker at a stop light leaving campus. He laughed aloud. "Finally!"

The sedative was working better than he thought. An hour had already passed, and Frank was still napping it out in the back. This gave Tod time to think and to concentrate on navigating through the rain. The drive so far had been uneventful, but the last thing he wanted was for his plans to be derailed by a spinout due to inattention. He gripped the wheel tighter. He had to set up camp, muse their bedding, smash their phones and toss them in the river, then get Frank to their true destination. Or maybe he should drive Frank up first, make sure he was secure, then drive back down and do all the prep work.

Before he could decide which course of action to take, he reached a fork in the road. He took the left. It would take him at least another forty minutes, driving as fast as he dared, to reach the campsite. He was still thinking about how much the rain would hinder their progress, when the world suddenly exploded into blinding lights and shattering glass.

Piper was on the verge of tears. She had just been accosted by a clown. And not just any clown, but one that was covered in gore and had two other live clowns sprouting from its torso. She didn't do clowns! She was hiding behind a large mannequin of Jason from Friday the 13th when Red, probably at Odette's urging, rescued her, blocking her from the clown's view as they swiftly made their way out of the gory haunted circus tent. It wasn't until then that she noticed that Frank was not with the group. She wasn't the only one.

"Has anyone seen Frank?" Red deposited Piper next to Odette and the two girls clung to each other. They were all outside, having survived the haunted house with nothing worse than palpitating hearts, and a scrapped knee from when one of their group had tripped while being chased by a wicked set of twins. No one in the group had seen him for a while. Everyone had assumed that he'd been right behind them. Someone joked that he was probably strapped to some insane doctor's operating table, about to scare the hell out of some other group.

They waited, standing to one side of the exit searching the faces other groups hoping to see Frank come out. After five minutes, those of their group with no personal connection to Frank drifted away until it was only the six of them were left. Declan was teasing Cory about his girlish shriek in one of the rooms when a large, hairy spider had dropped down on his head, and Adele was defending him. "Spiders are terrifying creatures!" After a while they all agreed that Frank must have gotten out ahead of them. "He probably met up with Tod already and decided to head out. Still," Red pulled out his phone, "He could've said something." When Frank didn't pick up, Red concluded aloud that they must be driving. They shrugged Frank's departure as a little rude, but nothing more, and spent the rest of the evening trying to chase away the ghosts with a few beers and a lot of food.

By the time the car stopped in a ditch, Tod was covered in splintered glass and was bleeding from a dozen small cuts as well as from his nose where the airbag had punched him. He groaned and reached for the seatbelt to unlatch it. His door was yanked open and somehow his belt was free, and now someone was roughly dragging him out of the car. "Shit!" He'd inadvertently hit his nose in his struggle to stand. His vision was being blinded by the headlights of the vehicle that had hit them, but he could make out that he was being held upright by two men, and that another two were lifting Frank from the backseat.

Frank was coming around, moaning as he was hauled to his unstable feet. Except for a cut on his forehead where some broken glass had probably struck him, he appeared to be just fine. "Is this them?" The booming voice came from the other side of Frank's wrecked car. There was a hulking figure hidden in the darkness just beyond the headlights. Frank's blindfold was whipped off along with his gag and someone was gripping his chin, turning his head to face the lights and the voice. "And the other?"

Tod's face was also turned to the light. There was a hesitation. "Hair dye?" The man on his right called back that it looked like it might be hair dye, but the eyes were the wrong color. "Check for contacts." His head was yanked back, and his eyes were assaulted by the beam of a flashlight. As if there wasn't enough light already. When his head was released, he bent it down, blinking to get his eyes to readjust. He didn't hear what was said next. But now there was a cold, light pressure in the depression where the back of his skull met the top of his spine. He froze.

They were speaking to Frank, but he was still loopy from the sedative and couldn't respond. Tod was then forced to stand in front of Frank, and they asked, "Are you related to this boy?" Tod opened his mouth to answer but something struck the back of his head, hard enough to make him reel. "Not you!" Next to him Frank was given a hard shake. "Frank Hardy, are you related to this boy?" Frank looked at Tod, his eyes slightly unfocused, "Yes, he's my brother." Tod wasn't sure if Frank was lying on purpose, or if that in his muddled state he'd confused Tod for his brother.

"Bullshit," the man on his left said, "If he's your brother, why are you all tied up and being dragged out to nowhere?" Tod didn't wait for Frank to answer, "It's a prank. Something some of our friends and I came up with. I'm supposed to take him to a cabin—" he sucked air sharply through his teeth as he guessed what was the sight on the end of a gun dug into his newly formed bruise, "It's true!" There was silence as they waited for something. From far away the booming voice called, "Two are better than one. Bring him."

Tod's arms were then bound behind him, not unlike the way he had bound Frank's arms earlier that night. Frank as re-gagged and blindfolded, and Tod struggled to breathe as something was first stuffed into his mouth and then held there by a second gag before something thick and swas tied around his eyes. Then, Tod had the displeasure of feeling a needle jabbed into the side of his neck. The flood of liquid that was intruded into his body felt like it was burning hot, and Tod struggled against the chemical wave that broke over his brain. The last thing he felt through the haze that was now enveloping his consciousness was himself being thrown over someone's meaty shoulder.


	9. Chapter 9

Savages

Chapter Nine

Frank awoke from a drugged sleep for a second time that night. He lay still in the darkness, letting the familiar sluggishness of his blood, still pulsing with the drug's remnants, trickle through his veins. Through past experience he knew that depending on what had been administered it was possible that he might get out from underneath the influences for quite some time. He hoped that, he would soon be cognizant enough to take stock of his situation and formulate some sort of plan. But he wasn't sure what consequences of being dosed twice, more than likely with different medications, would be rendered on his already abused body.

Slowly, his senses began to tell him a little more about his surroundings. The first thing he was able to feel was the cold hardness of cement beneath his already numb left shoulder and the corresponding side of his face. Against his back must be a stone wall, he could feel the sharp points of its ragged surface digging into his hands and wrists. Then the thick, slightly burnt scent of sawdust so close that he struggled with the sudden twinging of his nose. He sneezed, sending a light throbbing through his head.

He could taste the fibers of the gag pulled tight against his tongue and straining the corners of his mouth. He could taste the acrid dust in the air. He sneezed again. It must be pine sawdust. He three more times. 'Damn allergies.' His eyes hurt, his head hurt, the tiny hairs in his ears hurt. He heard something. Voices. He strained to listen.

"Why keep him if he's not a Hardy?"

"Because Hardy is a sucker for innocence. And this kid is an easy pass for his own boy, it'll endear the kid to him." There was a creaking of wood. "The more leverage the better."

Who were they talking about? Who wasn't a Hardy? He was a Hardy. And Tod was – no; Tod wasn't a Hardy. Did they mean him? But he looked so much like Joe, how did they find out? Had he said something? It slowly occurred to him that he didn't know where Tod was. _'Are they keeping us apart?' _ Through the haze, he found his legs, and stretched them out. Nothing. He swung his legs backwards. _'That must be the wall.'_ He swung them forward, and there, just at the end of his toes, he felt something yielding. _'I think that's him. I hope that's him.'_

He lay still, feet against the presumed body, breathing heavily through his nose. The movements had exhausted him. As he lay there, choking on dirt and sawdust, his mind then began to play through the events leading to his current situation.

It wasn't clear how Tod had gotten caught up in this. At first it had felt like any other kidnapping, the dark haunted house used as a cover for hauling him away after he had been subdued. But something had happened. He had been in a car. And he fuzzily remembered the sound of crunching metal and glass raining down on him. The rest was a blur. But Tod had been there, he remembered his voice, and there had been something about the whole thing being a prank. But what whole thing? And why had Tod been there? _'Damn, my head, can't think.'_

Frank stopped thinking. It was hard and exhausting, and his throat was dry. He pressed his head against the stone wall behind him and let his mind drift to the sounds around him. He could hear the rainfall outside, the roof echoed the drumming, was it a tin roof? There was the murmur of the voices of their captors, but he couldn't focus on what was being said. The voices sounded far away. Maybe there was a second room. Maybe they weren't watching.

After gathering a deep breath, he tried to sit up. It was hard. Incredibly hard, to somehow propel himself from laying on his side to sitting with his back to the wall. He was huffing and he fought a sudden wave of nausea. Why was he sweating? He must be worse off than he thought. There was the scrapping of a boot against wooden planks. Frank stopped breathing. _'Please, don't be watching us. Just go away.'_

Something cold touched his neck. He tried to jerk away. Laughter. Someone tousled his hair, shoving his head hard enough that it thudded painfully against the wall behind him. A groan worked its way around his gag. More chuckling, and the sound of footsteps retreating to somewhere else. Not far. Damn. He sat still, fighting back the darkness behind his eyes. Dark. Eyes.

Something clicked into place. It was the bright lights of headlights, and in them was Tod being held up by black-clad men next to the open door of the driver's seat. He blinked. Open door of the driver's seat. Tod had been driving. If Tod had been driving then—_'No, that can't be right.' _But it was starting to make sense now. He had been grabbed in the haunted house. Where Tod had been working that night. The figure that had grabbed him was a grim reaper in a skull mask and a large, black cloak. Tod's costume had a large, black cloak, and the mask, what little he'd seen of it, had been skull-like. And he had been driving.

'How could I have missed it?' But he knew how. Tod's appearance. It didn't matter how hard he tried to keep in mind that this man wasn't his brother, they just looked too much alike. He had been comfortable with a familiar face around all the time. Now he wondered just how natural that appearance was. If kidnapping Frank had been Tod's goal all along, then he could've used plastic surgery to make himself look more like Joe. It was all flooding in now: the quick lies and fake kindness, masking the slightly dark tones of voice Tod had sometimes used when speaking to him, Tod encouraging him to drink alcohol, the thinly veiled looks of hatred that Frank thought he had imagined late at night. And the bruises all over his body spoke of rage and aggression.

He mentally shook himself. Something clearly had gone wrong with Tod's plan. Imagine another kidnapping taking place within a kidnapping. And these kidnappers had made the same mistake that he'd first done when he met Tod and mistook him for Joe Hardy. Good thing too. He knew that if they hadn't then Tod's body would be laying somewhere, with a neat bullet hole in the back of his head and a nasty exit wound.

There was a violent stirring to his right, and someone got violently sick. The stench of vomit was present, and the person – _'Tod?'_ – was choking. Frank felt adrenaline race through his system as he realized, Tod couldn't breathe.

A screaming pain in his head and throughout his gut woke Tod just in time for the first vehement wave of nausea to overcome him. His gag acted as a dam and he felt the bile burn through his nasal passages as the puke tried to find another way out. With both airways effectively obstructed, he immediately began struggling for oxygen. Someone ripped off the gag and he spewed out what was in his mouth, alternating coughing and gasping great gulps of air.

He moaned and his teeth began to chatter, both from the sudden cold and the agony that threatened to tear him apart. Nausea again attacked him, and his diaphragm heaved up and down, trying to calm his body before the rest of his systems revolted. A vague memory swam into view, of a time he was sick as a kid. Back then, deep in a flu-induced fever, he had felt like the world was spinning that he was sliding rapidly down a steep hill and he had clung desperately to his mattress so he wouldn't fall off the edge of the world. Now it felt as though the world was sitting on top of him, pressing him unmercifully into the earth.

A shudder ran through him, '_What's happening to me?_' He was so lost in trying to control yet another wave of illness that he didn't struggle when two strong hands hauled him to an upright position, then he was grasped under his arms and whoever it was began to drag him away with only his heels touching the floor. Tod realized that he was being moved out of doors as his skin erupted in goosebumps when accosted by the cold, pouring rain. There were muffled voices above him, someone saying, "allergic reaction", "what a stench," "shouldn't keep him," and "clean it up".

So far, he had managed to push back the urges to be sick, but the intense strain was exhausting him and it was threatening to send him back into a near unconscious state when he slipped in mud and was dumped unceremoniously on the ground, small twigs and leaves crackling under him. The next instant he was being rolled down a small hill, and then he was gasping in shock as he was dunked into freezing water. He panicked as the water closed over his head and he opened his mouth to scream and the river flooded into his mouth.

He was jerked from the water and he came up gasping and coughing, dragging in great gulps of air. He was hyperventilating, tasting dirt and mildew from the river. He was pulled to solid ground and dragged along blindly until one of his sodden shoes snagged on a doorpost.. A door slammed and the rain and the howling wind was shut out. He was shaking uncontrollably; his freezing clothes were plastered to his shivering body. He was dropped like a sack of sand. Having no way to break his fall he cried out when his right temple connected with the cement floor. Lights burst behind his eyes and he groaned.

"He's going to be more trouble than he's worth." Four men sat down at a round table and one of them opened a laptop. "So, all we're going to do is sit here and wait for Hardy to get back to us?" Heads turned to look at the speaker, a fifth man who was leaning against the doorpost with his back to the room where they held the captives. "What do you want, Neko?" Neko, stretched his lithe body against the post. "You said this job was going to be fun. The only fun I've had so far was crashing into their car." He tisked. "Not _super_ exciting," he leaned forward, "Let me have the extra one. No one'll miss him, right? So why worry about whether he survives?"

"And if Hardy wants him?"

Neko shrugged. "Maybe he will, and maybe he won't. But uh," he inhaled deeply, "If you give him to me, I'll only take half my cut. Come on, Panther, what do you say?" A large, hulking man crossed his arms across his chest. The silence stretched until Neko, clearly eager for a response burst out, "Look, at least let me rough him up a little, make it look good for Hardy?" Panther uncrossed his arms. "You will need to clean up your mess. This is supposed to be an abandoned mill, not a chop shop. I don't want anything laying around to attract attention later."

Neko pushed himself off the doorpost. "Yeeessss ssiiirrr, boss man. I'll clean up." He grabbed an empty wooden chair and scooped something up from the floor. "No one minds screaming, right?" Heads around the table shook and someone shrugged their shoulders. Neko left the room and shortly afterwards there was some clattering and a light came on in the other room. "Did he just take our last lantern?" Panther waved a hand in dismissal. "Let him be. Trust me, we'll be better off now that he has something else to occupy his attention."

In the other room, Neko was spreading out his tools on one of two old tables and trying to come up with the best way to have the most fun. He had to make sure it would last until the negotiations started. Things like this always dragged on and on, and he was just dying of boredom. He glanced back at the sodden bundle on the floor. He liked this one. He'd always been a sucker for a guy with green eyes.

Frank heard someone moving close by. There was a clicking noise and the scrapping of something heavy being moved across the floor. What a fucked-up day it had turned out to be. Being scared out of mind in a haunted house, then being beaten and kidnapped. Twice. He'd been kidnapped twice. His body was still feeling heavy, and he had lost the feeling in his arms. He shifted, trying to make himself more comfortable, and prayed that whatever was going to happen, happened soon.

Having made his preparations Neko strode over to the wet body, "Up we go little guy." He grunted and staggered a little as he carried it back towards the tables. "Maybe not so little. Which is fine, I bet there is a lot of muscle on you." His hand slipped while settling the unconscious form into a chair. It brushed against something. Neko blinked. Then smiled. "Yeah, you're a big boy."

Tod tried to open his eyes, but his head hurt too much. There were alternating sharp pains and throbs that radiated through his skull. His neck was stiff, and when he shifted his head to an upright position he groaned with the aching. Giving himself a moment, he again attempted to open his eyes. Someone had removed his blindfold, but his vision was blurry, and he blinked several times to clear it.

His arms were stretched out, taut, his muscles were sore with the strain. His head shook a little as he tried to look around. Both his wrists were clamped to two sturdy tabletops with c-clamps, and when he tried to pull them free the tendons and ligaments screamed with burning pain. Afraid he would rip his own hands off, he stopped. Immediately a hand grasped his neck, the fingers around his throat shifting his trachea with their strength. He barely heard the words above his own efforts to breathe. "Hi there. I was afraid you weren't going to come to."

The person speaking released his throat and moved around one of the tables to stand in front of him. "Well, well, you're even prettier up close. The lights were a little too bright to see you properly before. Who knew." The man was masked, his voice lightly muffled, and he was dressed head to toe in black clothing. Except for his hands. He wore nothing on his hands. He moved closer, squatting directly in front of Tod and pushed his face right up against Tod's own. "I think its only fair to tell you that we're going to play a game. I think you'll like it. Your part is easy, all you have to do is scream."

In a panic, Tod attempted to headbutt the man but was rewarded with a slap that made his ears ring. "Na, na, na, na. We haven't started yet. In this game the one who isn't strapped in a chair goes first." Standing, he patted Tod's cheeks, "In case you were wondering, that person isn't you." Tod turned his head, trying to bite the hand. This guy was seriously creeping him out. The man caught the bottom of his jaw in a vice-like grip. "Eager to get started, aren't you? Well, I'm happy to oblige," he pulled something from one of the tables with his other hand. "Now, open wide."


	10. Chapter 10

Savages

Chapter Ten

"Uh-uh, open wide. I don't want you biting." The hand that gripped his face squeezed hard, forcing his mouth open with the fear that his jaw would break under the force. Tod felt his eyes widen at the sight of the implement approaching his face. _'God, no, please, no!'_ Metal was jammed into his mouth, grinding across teeth and painfully scraping against the roof of his mouth. "Nnnhnnn!"

"Ssssshhhhh!" The man known as Neko crooned, "We haven't even started yet. Wait till we've had a little bit of – Ah! Here we are." Tod's stomach flipped, sending blood rushing straight to his head making him nauseous and lightheaded. He tried to jerk away, tried to remove himself from danger, but the tool was clamped tightly around his upper left wisdom tooth and his movements were sluggish. He shut his eyes tight against what he knew as coming next. And then, the agony started.

Frank sat in the sawdust, unable to cover his ears against the distorted screams coming from across the room. Then, a familiar sharp, metallic scent assaulted his nostrils, and the screaming mutated into whimpering. _'That sounds like Tod!'_ His heart beat faster.

Neko pulled away, breathing heavily as he admired his handywork. The young body before him was nearly limp from his administrations, the tight arms outstretched and fighting against the restraints. He loved it. He wanted more, more. He needed to hear the screaming, the groans full of pain, the sharp, shuddering intakes of breath. His body ached with need and he struggled to remain in control, to not lose himself in the moment. He'd have to switch methods, so he could hear those lovely screams without any obstruction. He flicked blood and shattered tooth fragments from the forceps before throwing them back down on the tabletop and reached down to roughly fist the dark hair and yank the head back.

Tod gagged hard as the blood that was flooding his mouth gurgled in his throat. And with his head at such a hard angle all his spluttering accomplished was to spray his own face with blood and saliva. He stiffened, waiting for the next atrocity and hoping, that instead of torture that they would just kill him. Because, if they tortured him, then this was punishment. Punishment for failing Sir. It wasn't fair, he hadn't meant to fail. Another metallic object was in the hand of his captor, this one was pressed to his throat.

"You make….mmmmm," The man moaned in his ear, "the most wonderful sounds. I want to hear more of your sweet voice, I want you to give me your best." Tod felt the tip of the knife move upwards into it caught the notch where his jaw met his neck and made a point of needle-like pain. A thin line of blood tickled as it slowly ran down his neck and into the color of his still soaking shirt. "There's just so many ways to get what I want. I just have to choose which one to use. But first – "

Frank flinched as he was suddenly grabbed by the front of his shirt and pulled away from the wall, grit and dirt scrapping at the back of his pants as he was dragged. "You're going to join the game, too," Frank was shoved against a sharp corner and his blindfold was removed, "Just not this second." Frank blinked into the sudden brightness of light. Everything illuminated by the light had a hazy halo around it. But as his eyes adjusted, he saw that he was up against one of the legs of a table, directly next to a chair. He looked up. To was looking sideways and down at him, blood dribbling out of his half open mouth. Frank swallowed.

The tall, thin man moved behind Tod's chair and there was a tearing sound as his shirt was cut away from back to front. The cold air raised goosebumps all over his torso. "Aw," the voice was pouty, "It looks like someone already got to you, and here I thought I'd be the first." Tod shivered as the blade lightly traced over old scars. "What happened here?" He didn't answer, choosing instead to clench his teeth, despite the throbbing, and stare straight ahead. He was not going to give this bastard the satisfaction of playing his "game". "Oh, come now. We shouldn't have secrets, you and I." The blade bit just below his right shoulder blade. Tod winced, hissing with the sting. _'Don't think. Just breathe, like Sir taught us. Focus on the farthest point in the room.'_

Frank knew about the scars. At least, he had thought he had glimpsed something, once or twice, beneath the gaping of a shirt whenever Tod played a game of basketball. But sitting there with sawdust clinging to his hair, face, and clothes, Frank felt his stomach clench at the sight of Tod's bare back. Glistening white lines of healed skin were spaced out randomly across the tight muscles, a particularly long one running nearly parallel to his spine. _'Holy shit—'_ Frank's view was momentarily blocked by Neko's movements.

"These don't strike me as self-inflicted," Neko mused, letting the blade he held drift lightly across the map of scars before him, "And you seem too young to have been in such a nasty fight. Tell me, how did this happen?" He pulled the head back, to stare down into the glare of his plaything. When there was no response, he patted the face with his blade hand, the sharp steel barely managing to miss the tip of the nose. "Can't you tell me, boy? Or did someone say not to tell?"

A flicker of emotion flashed deep in the mossy-green eyes, and a savage smile spread itself wide beneath Neko's mask. "That's it, isn't it, boy. Who told you not to tell? Was it daddy? If it was daddy, then maybe it was daddy who gave you these." Here he used the knife to pry at one of the scars. The flesh beneath his hands spasmed, and the eyes were now wide with fear. He'd hit it. "Well," he leaned down to speak directly into Tod's ear, "I'm not daddy. I won't _beat_ you."

Frank leveraged himself against the table leg, feeling around with his bound hands, trying to find some sort of sharp edge he could use to cut his bonds. There was nothing. _'Wait, what was that?'_ His shirt sleeve had caught on something for a moment. _'Come on, where are you…There!'_ At the bottom of the table leg, nearly flush with the floor, was the corner of the table foot. It was just far enough off the floor to be of some help. _'Maybe. I've just got to,'_ Frank slumped, trying to get the edge of his bonds around that corner, _'work at it a little bit.' _He glanced up to make sure Neko wasn't watching. The black clad figure was facing away from him._ 'Monologuing.' _

"You know, I've done a bit of studying in my time. And I've come across many interesting tidbits of history, like, a beautiful technique from the orient. They liked to take a knife and strip great pieces of skin from a criminal until the poor soul died from shock or blood loss." He bit his lip, desire gaining momentum as he continued, "Can you imagine the sounds those men were gifted with?" He tossed his knife from one hand to the other. "I'd like to have witnessed that first time." He ran a hand through the hair damp with sweat, and down the shaking shoulders to the little splash of red he put there earlier. He probed it. "The fear on the faces of the people watching. So exciting!"

"Now," Neko inspected the bright blood on the tips of his fingers, "I don't want to deal with the hassle of disposing of strips of flesh, so I've made a slight modification to this technique." He slid the sharply honed edge of the blade into the cut and widened it with a quick flick of his wrist. He continued, quick at first, sharp slices into softness that sent dark little rivulets slipping down the pale skin. Then, he began dragging the knife more deliberately, slowly, and pressing deeper with every movement. He was starting to get want he wanted, a few grunts, a moan; now to conjure a real scream. Neko split open the skin over a shoulder blade and forcefully drove the knife until it scrapped against bone.

"FUUUUUUUUCK!" Tears flooded Tod's eyes, blurring the world. His back arched but he was chased by the repeating pain until he was continually screaming with it. More than once the blade touched bone and eventually the screams turned to sobs, which turned into retching, and the stench of vomit mixed with the iron of blood. He was losing, his senses where being drowned, he couldn't stand it anymore. He begged, wailing, "PLEASE! OH PLEEEAAAAASE! STOOOOPPP!"

Frank was going to be sick. Blood was running over everything. Down Tod's back, splashing onto the seatback, on the seat, dripping over the edge. What in the hell? Why was he doing this? Was this the reason his blindfold was removed? To make him watch? He didn't want to. He tucked his head against his chest, closed his eyes, and choking back his own tears, went back to work on his bonds.

"That's it." This was better than he had hoped for. Neko ran his tongue over his lips under the mask. "Give me some more." Tod could feel himself going limp, his mind beginning to cave to the blackness of pain, but another swipe of the blade brought him back from the edge of darkness. "Yeeesssssss!" Neko hissed warmly into his ear, "How glorious! Just one more?" Tod's eyes were rolling back now, unable to hold out any longer he escaped, followed by the sound of his own screaming.

Neko lifted the blade away from its wonderous work just as the body slumped. "Shame," he sighed, "We were nearly there." He grunted as his blood pulsed in hard places. "Just a little more," he moaned. He reached for his mask with one hand, wanting to taste the blood of this delicious tidbit, but he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. "What's happening here, now?"

Frank froze. He'd been seen. He tried not to show fear as Neko approached him, knife in hand. He was jerked forward, away from the table. "You've been naughty." The voice was low, dangerous. He was shoved back hard against the table leg, the corner edge digging hard into his back, and SLAP! His ears rang as another stinging blow was struck on his other cheek. SLAP! Neko chuckled meanly. "What a fighter you are," he pinched one of Frank's stinging cheeks, leaving sticky lines of Tod's blood on his face. "Too bad I can't have you too. A son of the infamous detective Hardy. No," he glanced back at the still body confined to the chair, "I have to content myself with this…imposter." He stood and went back to the chair.

"Not that I mind really. I hate to see such a young," he reached around to stroke the boy's bare chest, "well developed, male go to waste." He ran his hand further down the torso, smears of blood trailing behind. He glanced back at Frank to see fear spread across his face. "Oh, yes. We know he isn't little Joe Hardy. We're not without intelligence you know. Why do you think they," he jerked his head in the direction of the other room, "Let me have him? We would never cause serious damage to our insurance." He patted the abs under his hand, "But he is expendable, and of so much fun to play with!"

Frank squashed the feeling of despair before it could show on his face. He had thought that if Tod was mistaken for Joe, there was a chance they would both come out of this alive. But now, it seemed more than likely that Tod wouldn't…wouln't…he swallowed the bitter truth. "Now you understand the situation." Neko was squatting in front of him, his hard, dark eyes staring into Frank's. "He's not part of the deal. Just you. I'm not going to hurt you like I'm hurting him. Now," he grabbed Frank by the hair, "It's time for you to participate. He's had enough rest, don't you think? Let's wake the sleeping beauty."

Neko left the room and then returned with two objects in his hands: a large clear bottle, and a white rag. "Here we are, all the stuff you'll need to take care of your "little brother"." He placed the items on one of the tables to which Tod's wrists were clamped. "And now," he turned to Frank, and grabbing the captive by the front of the shirt, Neko hauled the young man to his feet and held him upright until Frank's balance stabilized. Neko released Frank's shirt and grabbed his throat instead. He tightened his grip until he could hear Frank's breaths become raspy. He pulled him in close and spoke. "I'm going to release your hands now, and you're going to do a good thing for your pal here. But," he placed a second hand on the white neck and increased the pressure until Frank started to jerk in order to get more air, "If you try any tricks; then, precious cargo or no, it will be _you_ in that chair."

Frank's vision was starting to bloom with black specks when Neko finally let go. He wheezed air into his lungs and coughed. Neko's knife made quick work of the bonds holding his hands tight together, but when the man made no move to remove the bonds around his ankles, Frank said nothing. His voice had been flat and calm, without any of its previous flamboyancy, and his eyes had been black and unsmiling. Frank had no doubt that he'd meant what he'd said. And Frank's stomach churned at the idea of his bare body being seated in that chair with his hand clamped to the two tables, his back oozing with blood.

He fumbled with the bottle, his arms and hands tingling madly with waking nerves. Just as he was about to pour the liquid over Tod's back, Neko stopped him and shoved the rag into his free hand. "Don't forget to scrub." Frank inwardly shuddered at the obvious glee in the man's voice. He took a deep breath and started.

His back was on fire. That was the first thought through Tod's tormented brain as the pain yanked him mercilessly from the dark. His next thought was how to get away from it. But when he tried to move it felt like his wrists were being torn apart, and he fell into a weeping hell where molten lava was forced into him through the gaps in his skin, and he writhed until his head hit against something warm. He looked up and through tears he saw the man responsible for his suffering. Neko cupped his face with both hands, and the first thing that got through the thick fog of agony was that his captor's hands cool against the hot swollenness of Tod's face.

Neko rubbed at the tears streaming down Tod's face, "That's it. You're so much more appealing when you're like this." His voice was high with excitement. The boy's eyes had changed colour. Instead of the moss they'd been earlier, they were now a bright green. He used one thumb to remove some of the blood from the broken skin of Tod's lips, and moved his mask far enough up his face to use his tongue to lick away the stain. He squatted until he was nearly nose to nose with the young man.

"Please," Tod's teeth were chattering now, "please…god…" his pleas trailed off into whimpers and groans, punctuated by short screams. Neko stood, gently tucked Tod's head against his abdomen, and stroked his hair as a mother would while comforting an upset child. "Hush now, you're going to be fine. Frank and I are going to take good care of you."

Frank wanted to stop. Wanted to get away and cover his ears against the sound of the torment he was inflicting. But as soon as Tod had come screaming back to life, Neko had moved to hold his knife at the ready. The threat was clear. So, he continued as gently as he could, wiping and dabbing at the mass of raw flesh that was now streaming with fresh blood. His hands where trembling against the spasms and twitches that continually swept across Tod's body. It felt like his heart was being dropped every time a scream issued from the man in front of him. And he wasn't even halfway done.

Neko admitted to himself that he was struggling not to release. The moans, the groans, and those screams. They gave him a tingling rush with each new utterance of deep, agonizing pain. He wanted nothing more than to lap at that back, to plunge himself into the broken body and have his way until he was spent. He looked down at himself. In his current state of arousal, that would be a long time. For the moment he had to content himself with closing his eyes and just listening, with the smell of blood covering everything. _'Glorious!'_

It wasn't enough. One rag wasn't nearly enough. The cloth had quickly become saturated in red, and now it was just pushing smears of blood around instead of soaking them up. Frank was shaking all over at sight of the numerous wounds in front of him, some of them revealed flashes of white bone through the red, angry mouths. He was getting lightheaded. Tod's body was dripping sweat and his head was lolling side to side in a weak delirium.

Neko patted Frank head, "Good boy. That wasn't so hard, was it?" He moved to rebind Frank's hands behind his back and knocked him back to the floor. From Frank's new position next to the chair, and in patch of bloody sawdust, he watched as Neko went to the front of the chair and pulled Tod's head up. Bloody saliva was dripping from Tod's half open mouth and his eyes were rolled back. Frank wasn't even sure he was breathing until Neko raised a hand and slapped it hard across Tod's back. The body arched and a faint, pathetic sound slipped into the still air.

"Oh," Neko crooned, "Did the bad man hurt you?" He stroked the still weeping wounds, reveling in the feeling of slick wetness that covered his hand. The body was responding in spasmatic movements. "Here," he could no longer help himself; he lifted his mask until the lower half of his face was exposed, "Let me kiss it better." The limp body offered no resistance as he tipped the head back and gave the hot mouth a long, deep kiss. He grunted when he pulled away, licking at the transferred blood. "God it's been so long, so long." He traced his fingers over the ruined lips. "And I'm going to enjoy the fucking hell out of you." His mouth descended again.

Frank squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn't watch, he didn't want to know. He turned his head away, trying to find a way to cover at least one ear but nothing he did was effective. There was the sound of a zipper being undone. He began reciting study notes, then poetry, then any song he could think of, but nothing completely drowned out the sounds of what was going on above his head. The one time he thought to use the force of his body to interfere and had made a move to do so, Neko had kicked him hard where his neck met the top of his shoulders and Frank had gasped and bite down on his gag. He was helpless.

After what seemed like an eternity the noises finally stopped, and he listened as footsteps moved away from them, retreating from the room. He wouldn't look, he couldn't look. He didn't what to know. But he knew anyway. A moment later a set of footsteps entered the room. A presence was standing over him. He heard what sounded like the click of a camera, once, twice, three times, and then Frank was grabbed by his shirt at the shoulders and he was roughly dragged away and dumped against the far wall. Frank heard a riiiiiiiiiiiiiippp, and he felt the cold, sharpness of the rough stone on his bare skin. It hurt.

He struggled to a seated position and opened his eyes to see a second black-clad figure in the room. He looked around; the torturer was not there. The unknown man removed the C clamps that held Tod to the tables, and Tod slipped from the chair to the floor with a thud. "Hey!" a voice called from the other room, "We're keeping him, I'm not done yet." There was an answering grunt of "sick bastard" and the man picked Tod under the arms and hoisted the limp body onto an empty table. Then, he left, only to return with what looked like a first aid kit.

Frank was relieved. Someone would be able to do more than he had to clean and cover Tod's wounds. Based on the sheer number of Tod's injuries, Frank knew that the chance of infection was high. But the man didn't open the kit and start working. He just simply pulled a glinting needle from the kit and slid it into one of Tod's arms before letting the arm drop back to the tabletop.

Neko returned, and stood, hands on hips, surveying his handiwork. One body on the table, another cowering in a corner with head turned. He grinned. These boys were soft. Probably raised on milk and honey. Except. He frowned back at the burdened table. This one was a little different. At first, he'd thought that the imposter was just like the Hardy brat, all silver spoon. But then those scars. And those abs. _'If he hadn't been drugged,'_ he mused, _'he might have put up a good fight. I would've like that.'_

Sighing, he got started. Reaching into the aid kit, he pulled out a bottle of antiseptic, a roll of gauze and a pair of surgical scissors. Frank's role had been created to enhance the torture and horror of the scene. Not just for the imposter, but for Frank as well. If Neko couldn't physically touch him, then he'd mentally touch him, make him break. He smiled as he began to sluice down the boy's back. Making him watch should do the trick. But first, he needed to ensure that this plaything would last long enough to get some good results. Maybe a couple of days.

He worked steadily, pausing only now and again to revel in the sight of the destruction he'd caused, before returning to his work of protecting the wounds with layers of thin gauze. He'd made the decision not to close the wounds with any stitches, using the gauze would keep foreign bodies out of the gashes, while still providing Neko with the opportunity for more sweet sounds later. Ripping partially fused gauze from wounds would create just as much agony as the knife had done. He began to hum. Now this job was worth it. And if he got to take the boy along with him, he'd consider it a bonus.


	11. Chapter 11

Savages

Chapter Eleven

Fenton Hardy was not a newcomer to the violent baseness of men. But he never ceased to feel that knot of dread anytime a member of his family was in danger. He felt it now as he gazed at the computer monitor, with Ben "Cy" Johnston tapping furiously away at a keyboard just a few feet away.

The first demands had come five hours before. The email, blunt and concise, had popped up with the subject line: "URGENT: Your Son in Exchange for…" Fenton had gotten fraudulent emails before, some of them starting in a similar manner. And, thinking this was the same thing, he'd dropped it into his trash, not giving it a second thought. Until two hours after that, when he received a second email from the same address, with the same subject line, but with an attachment. Even more suspicious, but he called Frank and Joe out of precaution. Joe picked up after the third ring, Frank's had gone straight to voicemail. So, this time he dropped it into an anti-malware program and waited for the green "OK" signal before opening the email.

The message body was short. "We have your boy, Frank Hardy, and one other, and are holding them while negotiating terms for their release." The demands were few. The location of a certain criminal, a demolitions expert that had turned on his fellow white supremist radicals and had been relocated; and the destruction of files from a case dated three years prior. One was easy, files could be quickly retrieved from backup caches if needed, but the other…Fenton laughed. Why did these idiots think that he had control over what other law enforcement agencies kept tight under wraps?

The attachment was a picture, and it had been taken at night, bright headlights illuminating the wreckage of a blue car. Frank's blue car. His jaw clenched. It could be nothing. But Frank hadn't answered the phone. With a few taps of his keyboard a tracing program was run, and it ran for all of five minutes before a negative return popped up on the screen. Fenton was a little perturbed. This was supposed to be the best trace program available and it couldn't trace one lousy email. Another email joined the one he'd just read. A second picture, this time of two huddled shapes on the floor of some building. He leaned forward. One of the shapes looked like it could be Frank. It could.

He had reached for his cell phone then, called one of the few people he had on speed-dial. He needed a computer nut. And Ben "Cy" Johnston was just such a person. An hour later he had knocked on Fenton's office door and was quickly ushered in. "I don't see why I can't just do this at home," he grumbled as he began setting up equipment. "Because I need to have immediate updates and you don't like me coming over." Fenton trusted the young man to do his best, but he did not trust him enough not to take advantage of the situation in some way. At least if he was in front of Fenton, there would be less chance of Cy tweaking things too much.

The young computer genius been introduced to Fenton several years ago as a white hat hacker, but a few events over the years had made Fenton cautious about the youth. Though Cy had become fast friends with Frank and Joe in their senior year of high school, his relationship with Fenton had always been tentative. Especially since Fenton had found out some disturbing information about Cy's previous job. And there was some debate on just how recently Cy had left that job, or if he'd left it at all.

It took ten minutes for Cy to tell him that the email was sent in the States. "But I'm going to need a little more time to find out where exactly." Cy rubbed his hands together. "Whoever sent this is no slouch." Fenton then spent another twenty minutes formatting a cautious reply, requesting more proof that this was not a prank. While he waited for a reply, he put out a few feelers with his contacts in law enforcement. He wanted to know if anyone had recently threatened that demolitions expert.

The expected reply came just as he finished with his last phone call. "Holy fucking shit," Cy was staring at his screen. "Fenton, you may not want to see this." Fenton glanced at the screen, then stared as his stomach hit the floor. He didn't scare easy; he had been through too many cases both with the Bayport Police Department then on his own as a private investigator to frighten at the sight of a little violence. But he never had seen his sons covered in blood before. His sons? No. He studied the figure in the photo closely. Joe's doppelganger. This person looked like Joe, but he had just spoken to his youngest boy, and he was sitting in a New York Airport getting ready to fly into the small municipal airport in Bayport. This had to be the roommate Frank had once mentioned in a phone conversation. That poor boy. Frank was in the pictures too. Looking the worse for wear, curled up on the floor with blood smeared on his face and sawdust covering his clothes. Sawdust. "Cy—"

"Already on it," Cy's fingers flew across the keyboard, "Calculating the dimensions of the room now, and I'll get a visual analysis of the sawdust going before I…" Fenton tuned him out, reaching once more for his vibrating cell phone. "Hello? Speaking." He turned away from what Cy was doing and sat down at his own computer. He would need to negotiate for some assistance on this. After listening to the voice on the other end of the call, he almost didn't want to. They wanted a favor in return. It would mean locking himself into a temporary contract on a certain case of domestic terrorism. The FBI had approached him about it before, but he had turned them down. Now they were bargaining. Their assistance for his. _'Bastards.'_

Tod was uncomfortably hot. But it was the middle of summer and he had hunting to do, so he shook off the sweat and continued crawling silently on his bell through the tall grass. There it was. A nice, twelve-point buck. This would feed them for a long time. Fresh venison. He pulled the rifle close. Smoked meat. Lined up the sight. And that hide. Trigger. The buck jumped and took off.

The bullet had struck true. The buck would fall over dead in just a minute, but it was best not to lose sight of him. Tod got up and started running. He ran until he hit the top of a hill. There it was, just a dark shape on the valley floor, and so near the cabin too. He half ran, half slid down the side of the hill. When he reached the bottom, he almost stumbled over it. But it wasn't the buck. It was a body bag. He hadn't shot that had he? He reached out and pulled down the zipper.

There he was. Laying deathly still, pale, and covered with bullet wounds. Sir. "Sir?" Tod was in shock. What happened? The eyes of the body suddenly flashed open and a hand was now gripping his wrist. "What do you think you're doin' boy?" Tod was trying to pull away but Sir tightened his hold painfully. "You're not done yet! You gonna let a little thing like blood stop you? You're a wuss, a sissy-boy. Now get out that knife!" Tod had out his hunting knife and now he was cutting away skin and flesh, exposing tendons and white bone. His skin. His flesh. His bone. And all the while Sir was taunting him, goading him, ordering him to butcher properly.

Then he was back at the top of the hill, looking down at a parade of people coming out of the cabin. Troopers, and men in heavy armor and with shields. And blood was everywhere. A giant of a man in a grey suit with his jacket thrown over one shoulder and his sleeves rolled up was looking up at the hill. He gasped and tried to scoot out of sight. Then someone had him by the shoulders and was rolling him over.

It was a man-sized black cat. The cat stuck out its tongue and it was rough, like sandpaper, and it tore at his clothes and started to lick the skin off his body. He dared not cry out for fear that the people on the other side of the hill would hear and come for him too. And then he would be in a body bag.

He tried to fend of the giant cat in a silent struggle, but the more he struggled the more the cat's tongue scratched through his skin. It hurt! And now the parade had found them and there were guns pointed at his head and the man in the grey suit was towering over him, "It's a shame. It has been so long since we've had some fun." The sight was blocked out by a huge snake that slithered up his body and when he opened his mouth to scream the snake started to slide down his throat.

Frank was staring at the ceiling. Tod was laying across his legs, thrown there by the sicko that had turned the usual unpleasant kidnapping experience into a nightmare. They were now alone, and Frank was contemplating death, something he'd only thought about on a few occasions. What would it feel like, to die? Did it hurt? He hoped it would be fast. Maybe he wasn't going to die this time either. After all, they needed him to get his father to do what they wanted, right? It would be better if he did die. Then this wouldn't keep happening, and other people wouldn't get dragged into it. Like Tod. He looked down.

Tod was still, either unconscious or asleep. Frank guessed the former. Tod was facing away from him. And his hands were free. Frank straightened up. Tod's hands were free! They might have a chance after all! That is, if Tod could make it. Using his legs, he tried to rock Tod closer. Tod whimpered. Frank froze. How could he do this? Tod's back was in shreds, he was probably in shock, and his mind…Frank felt something on his face. Tears.

His shoulders started to shake. How could he? Wasn't it enough that Tod has suffered the unthinkable at the hands of captors that had clearly only been after him? Even if what Frank surmised about Tod was true, did it give him any right to make any kind of request after what Tod had just been through? He felt sick. _'Sorry,'_ he thought, _'God, I'm so sorry, Tod!'_

It took him a little while to calm down. Enough to start rationalizing. If Tod's head was clear enough when he woke up, Frank would talk to him about getting out of here. Yes, it was too bad that these terrible things had happened to him, but this was all the more reason to escape while they had the chance. As he mulled this over in his mind, he gradually became aware of the voices in the other room. They were discussing the message they had received in answer to their demands. Fenton had requested the safe return of both boys in exchange for filling only one of their demands. There was laughter.

"He's a funny man," the voice was deep, almost thundering, "Tell him that we'll release the imposter in exchange for the destruction of the files, but that we're going to hand onto Frank Hardy until we have our hands on Gregory Canson." There was a whining protest. "But, Panther, you can't give away my toy like that! I'm not done! And you promised I could have him!"

"It appears we still need him as leverage, so if you want to have any more fun, you're going to have to do it before we set him loose." There was a groan of exasperation. "I need to let him rest. He's too fragile to continue right now. And I want him awake." The last sentence was said with such feeling that it conjured up sounds that Frank had been trying to forget. He barely had time to turn his head before he heaved.

There was heaving footsteps into the room. Frank was still vomiting, saliva and bile dripping from his lips and soaking into his gag as he gasped for relief. His head was turned, and someone was cutting the rag from his face, he felt the cold, flat side of the blade of the knife slide against his cheek, and then something was pressed to his mouth. "Drink up. We can't have you getting sick." The man was just like the other ones, clad in black, full face covered, gloves on his hands. But he was huge, even though he was squatting Frank could tell that he was well over six feet tall.

Frank drank greedily, thankful that the coolness of the water was enough to sooth the burning in his throat. When Frank drank half the water bottle's contents, it was taken away from him, and the man turned to Tod's limp form. He ran a hand over the bandages on Tod's back and down the arms to the bandaged wrists. He didn't say anything, just sighed and rolled Tod off Frank's legs. Frank grunted as his legs began to tingle with newfound feeling. Tod had been heavy.

The man had scooped Tod up, and was now propping him up against the wall next to Frank. Tod's head lolled onto one of the man's gigantic shoulders. The man moved Tod's head back and began to slowly tilt water from the bottle into his mouth. "Come on, boy. Swallow." One hand massaged Tod's throat. "That's it, that's it." Tod was swallowing, painfully, but swallowing. The man stopped trying to make sure that Tod remained sitting upright and lowered him to the floor instead. "Looks like Neko didn't get you tied up before leaving. I'll fix that."

Frank's heart sank as he watched his and Tod's chance at freedom disappear with the high zeeeeeerrrrrt of a zip tie around Tod's white-bandaged wrists. _'Fuck my life.'_ The man stood up and surveyed the pair of them; Tod, freshly bandaged and completely out of it, and Frank, uncomfortably leaning against the wall with arms straining behind his back. "What kind of ice cream do you like?" Frank blinked. "What?" What did ice cream have to do with anything?

"Ice cream," the man explained calmly in his bass voice, "Is high in fats and sugars. Good for shock and energy." Frank thought for a moment. "Rocky Road." If this was going to be his last meal he might as well enjoy it. The man left then, and shortly afterwards there was the slamming of the outer door. They were left alone. To the semi-darkness of the room, and to Frank's dark thoughts. _'Dad, I don't know how you're going to get us out of this one.'_ He looked to his left, at Tod. His chest was barely moving. _'But hurry!'_


	12. Chapter 12

Savages

Chapter Twelve

Tod was awake now, at least Frank thought he was awake because he was struggling to get up. Bust as soon as he put weight on his hands to push himself up, he fell back down with a cry of pain, "Make it stop!" He was crying, his voice raspy and hoarse. "Please make it stop!" Frank didn't know what to do. What could he do? "It's okay. Just stay still right where you are, and you'll be okay." Complete bullshit. They were not going to be okay.

Tod's throat was incredibly dry, and sore. He wanted nothing more than to drink something and to lay in a cool, dark place. He was almost there. The floor was cooler, and the room was almost dark. The room was almost dark. He forced himself up, through the pain, through the tears trailing down his face, and into a sitting position. Fear was running around his stomach and hammering at his heart. _He_ wasn't still here was he? That man with the knife. The one who'd…who'd'…Tod began to shake.

Something bad had happened, he knew, it was just at the back of his mind, but it felt like a dream. A nightmare that hadn't felt quite real. It had to be a dream. This all had to be a dream. He leaned over his knees, his back feeling stiff and there was pain in his movement. He was so hot. So very hot. And everything hurt. Where was Sir? Sir would know what to do. He had fixed it last time, surely, he could fix it this time too. No. Sir was dead. He'd been killed. By the man in the grey suit.

"Tod? How do you feel?" Tod turned his head, throbbing, to look at Frank. Frank was sitting against the dark wall of the room where they were being held. His face was lit from the light falling through the doorway across the room. "You look like him, you know." Tod's voice was low, soft. Frank leaned towards him. "What did you say?" Tod closed eyes for a moment and moved to sit up straight. He whimpered until he managed to get into a position that seemed a little less painful. "You look like him. Your father."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What? Did you see him on the news or something?" Tod tried to smile, but his swollen lips started to crack at the tug, so he stopped. "Or something." His words were thick. He could feel his swollen face, the heat of the swelling pressing against his tongue and pushing up the skin around his left eye. He thought of the man in the grey suit. The man who haunted all his nightmares. He wanted to laugh, but it hurt too much. It all seemed so pointless now. All those years, all the planning, to get what? Revenge? Look how well that turned out. Here he was, tied and bloody next to the spawn of the man he hated, and what could he do? Nothing. "I hate you."

"What?" Frank didn't understand. Tod laughed, a short, painful chuckle. "I hate you, you and your perfect life, Hardy. I've hated you for years." He laughed again, the look of puzzlement on Frank's face was just too priceless. "Yeah, I know you, from way back. Though, you wouldn't remember, we never officially met. Your father and I almost did once. He would've killed me too, had he caught me." He swallowed hard. Fuck, he was so hot. And his throat hurt bad.

Frank was a little stunned. He had already concluded that Tod hated him, but that Tod knew him from years ago, that he knew Fenton Hardy, this was news to him. Tod continued, his voice holding no trace of any accent, so even that had been fake. Tod continued speaking, sounding as if he was musing to himself out loud. "Now I'm wondering what he'll do once you tell him I'm here. Maybe he'll lock me up forever, maybe he'll just kill me. Not that it matters anymore."

"Tod, I don't know your story, but it sounds like you probably had it rough—"

"Rough?" This time the low laughter was followed by seething as Tod fought back tears of pain. "What do you know of rough? You've had it good. Food every day, a warm bed to sleep in, a family. What do you know of starving when there was no game, of hiding out and moving repeatedly while being persecuted by people who didn't understand?" His voice was beginning to betray him, it was breaking, leaky some of the howling rage and sorrow he had held back for so long. "Rough is being beaten until you can't move. Rough is sleeping in the rain, under bridges and in doorways. Rough is clawing your way out of the gutter and studying hard for a GED before selling your soul to get into college—" He couldn't go on. He tried to lean against the wall, but the pain was too much, so he remained sitting upright, his blood boiling and his bones beginning to turn to jelly.

"Rough," he started again, forcing his voice to be steady again, "is watching your dad, the great Fenton Hardy, orchestrate a raid on an old man's cabin while his son watches from the safety of the tree line. Rough is when your father—" his shoulders heaved painfully, "when your father is shot all to hell and carried out, just pieces of meat in a black bag, while you hide fucking terrified that they're coming for you next." He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut it all out, the heat, the pain, the memories. This really was punishment. Cause it felt like he was burning in hell. He wished Frank would burn too.

Frank had been too stunned to speak; he had just stared at Tod's face as all these words poured forth. What was he saying? That his father was responsible for Tod's miserable life? He couldn't believe it. His father would never have left some orphaned kid run around without making sure he got help. It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. He opened his mouth to let out a little bit of the anger that had been building up inside, to ask a question. But he saw Tod's posture sway, and barely managed to maneuver himself to be a cushion before Tod toppled over, his head connecting with Frank's thigh instead of the hard floor.

'Shit.' Frank could feel the heat of Tod's skin through his jeans, and there was sweat glistening on his forehead in the light that fell across his face. Tod's breathing was heavy yet shallow, panting against a crushing heat. A muscle in Frank's back was pinched. How was he supposed to help someone else when he couldn't even help himself? So, they sat there, Tod with his head on Frank's leg, and Frank with pulled and pinching muscles, mulling over what Tod had said repeatedly in his mind.

He didn't know how long they had been sitting there, but he was dozing lightly when the slam of a door jerked him awake. The room was still the same, there was still rain although the wind wasn't howling anymore. Then the light from the other room was interrupted by a body-shaped shadow. Alarms clanged in Frank's head. Who was it? Which one of their captors was it?

It was someone new. Not the thin, twisted man that had done such horrible things, and not the giant, but a shorter, stockier man with a thick neck. He approached Frank, bent Frank's head towards his lap, and with a click of a knife blade opening, cut through the zip tie that had been used to rebind him. He hissed as his shoulders screamed with the release. The man shoved something into his hands, turned, and left without saying a word. It was two, freezing cold, round containers, and two spoons. The ice cream.

The light was too dim to read the labels on the containers properly, but by opening and sniffing the contents he could tell that one was vanilla, and the other his Rocky Road. He set aside the vanilla and dug a spoon into the Rocky Road. The coldness of the ice cream woke him up, and the feeling of the creaminess coating his tongue somehow comforted him. He closed his eyes, enjoying the sweetness. Marshmallows. Almonds. Tears.

He put down the ice cream and let the tears come. He wanted out. He wanted to be gone. He didn't want to be sitting here, hopeless in a windowless room, surrounded by smells and sounds he wanted to forget. He wanted a drink. He laughed at himself. A sure sign of an alcoholic. When did he become so pathetic?

There was a light stirring next to him. Tod was slowly trying to sit up again. Frank grabbed him around the shoulders and helped him to a sitting position. Tod had stiffened the moment Frank touched him and was still tense as Frank reopened the pint of vanilla and past it and the remaining spoon to him. The hands fumbled, then dropped. He was too weak. Frank would have to feed him. He scooted closer, to get a better angle with the spoon. Tod tried to move away, gasping with each movement and his shallow breathing became rapid. 'He probably thinks I'm going to hurt him.' Frank thought painfully. "Tod," he spoke gently, hoping to reassure his…friend, "It's just me. It's Frank. Let me help you."

Tod was feeling exhausted. Like he could barely spare the energy to breath let alone move. Be fear was prodding him strongly; 'Got to get out. Get away. Don't let them hurt me.' So, when a burst of fiery pain accompanied the pressure as someone gripped him around the shoulders, panic had latched onto his throat and he had tried to get away. It wasn't working because now this person was holding him, saying something. "Tod. It's just me. It's Frank. Let me help you."

Let him whom he hated help him? Fat chance. But exhaustion was at it again, making his body feel like stones at the bottom of a river. 'Stop it,' he commanded. His body refused to listen. Instead of leaping up and running away, he sank against the body of the other captive, their combined heat making him sweat. Or was he already sweating? The moment something touched his lips, bile rose in his throat and he spat it out. He didn't want anything in his mouth. He never wanted anything in his mouth ever again. But this tasted cold and sweet and didn't taste like..._that_…at all. His eyes drooped. He was tired. And why did Frank care? Hadn't he told the idiot that he hated him? "Why?"

Frank froze. Why? Why was he helping Tod? "Because you're human. Because you're hurt. Because…" he was about to say 'because you're my friend' but he wasn't sure that was true anymore. It didn't seem to matter anyway because Tod went limp and gravity started to pull him to the floor once more. Frank helped. Lowering him as gently as he could. Tod still felt incredibly warm to the touch. Frank worried about it. Fever? From his wounds? Was he sick? Could he die? He shook his head. No good thinking like that. He had to keep hoping they would get out of this mess alive. Right?

Neko moved to check on his new toy but had stopped abruptly in the doorway. He saw a dimly lit, tender sight of two boys, one trying to feed the other as he cradled the sagging body. Neko's heart began to pound and his pulse begin to race. So cute! How absolutely adorable! His hunger to humiliate one boy was growing into the strong desire to ruin them both. He had to resist temptation. He turned back into the other room. He couldn't have them both. So he would play with one twice as hard. Twice for the insult of not having both. He grinned. He would make Frank watch. He would pin his eyelids back if he had to. He would leave behind a memory that boy would never forget.

Frank was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming because butterflies the size of a man did not exist. He was facing the back of the butterfly and its giant wings, the width of which was equal to his height twice over, were decorated with a death's head. A giant skull with empty eye sockets and a gaping, toothless mouth. He cautiously moved sideways, wanting to get as far away from this monstrosity as much as possible. He barely made it past the wings when the wide-spread legs of the insect shifted, and he was confronted by the largest, soulless eyes he'd ever seen. "Please, don't eat me."

"Eat you?" the butterfly responded, "Why would I eat you when I already have something delicious to eat? Don't be so selfish." The butterfly's hairy forelegs held a large, open blue flower, and it's proboscis was stuck deep into the center, drawing out a ruby-red liquid. Frank's stomach turned. "What are you eating?" He heard himself ask. The butterfly offered the flower to him. "It's rotten, you wouldn't like it"

Frank looked into the flower. Nestled in the bottom of the bloom, mouth gaping and glazed eyes staring skyward, was a head. It was breathing. Frank could see little puffs of moist air coming from the blood rimmed mouth. The butterfly's proboscis stabbed down into it. Frank threw up. The butterfly patted his back with one of its other legs. "There, there. It must be a shock for you to see him this way, but you see, he was dying anyway. Why not let something good come out of it all?"

Frank was on hands and knees, quaking as he vomited again, and in the vomit were wriggling white things. Maggots. No. Larvae of some kind. He gagged. Something was gripping him, turning him. The prickly legs of the butterfly were rolling him over. "Now something beautiful will come from you too." The proboscis descended.

Frank was being held, and he was being rolled over, and he was vomiting. No larvae this time, but there were chunks of marshmallow and bits of almond floating in it. He shivered suddenly in the grip of the cold air of the night. Where was he? Why was he outside? Ice cold liquid hit him full in the face and he gasped a scream. A scream that was cut short by a hard blow to his torso. "Shut up." Water was once more sloshed over his face. By the end of it, he was on his knees in a cold puddle, little bits of dirt and leaves stuck to him. "You stank." Was the only explanation for his sudden soaking.

He was shoved stumbling back into the building. Someone had cleaned up the sick he'd made. Not only his, but Tod's sick from his time in the chair was also gone, and the smell in the room was a little less disgusting. Tod. He remembered his dream. Where was Tod? His eye frantically searched the room as his hands, and this time his ankles, were rebound and he struggled to a seated position of the floor. There he was. Frank felt relief flood over him. Right where he had been. And he was still breathing.


	13. Chapter 13

Savages

Chapter Thirteen

Piper was gripping Allison's right hand so hard that when she finally pulled away, she left little dents where her fingernails had dug into Allison's soft, white flesh. She apologized profusely, tears springing to her eyes and slipping down her cheeks while Allison sat her down in a chair and ran her cool hands over the crown of Piper's head and down to her shoulders. "Let it out. Feel the emotion. Step into the emotion," Allison's voice was soft, calm, "let it wash over you like a gentle wave. Let yourself float on that wave. Watch as it passes you, wiping away your footprints on the soft sand of the beach. See it fade into the distance. And release."

Piper wanted to bat Allison's hands away, she wanted to scream at her friend. Instead she gulped in air and tried to follow what Allison was saying. "Where could they be?" Allison's hands were holding both of her own in a comforting gesture. "Wherever they are, they will be found. There is the local police, search and rescue, and now there are these other men." Piper sniffed, "The FBI? Why would the FBI even be here looking for them?" Fresh tears pooled, blurring her vision, "Have they been caught up in something terrible? Like stumbling across poachers, or drug people growing…drug things? Or what if they're laying at the bottom of a ravine somewhere with both legs broken and no way to get out?"

Allison looked at her worried friend, whose eyelids were red and beginning to swell with the crying. Piper never had taken bad news well and tended to do something Allison termed "awefulizing". "It'll all work out, they'll be found, and it might be that it is as simple as they got lost while hiking."

"For three whole days?" The tone was incredulous. Allison wasn't sure how to respond. This was something new, something that neither of them had experienced before. And as far as her readings went, she had been absolutely bombarded with visual information. First with the local police, then with the entrance of the FBI. She wondered if she should do a traditional tea leaf reading. It would be faster than trying to sort through auras. And possibly more enlightening. But she couldn't explain that to Piper. Not while she was like this. All Allison could do was lightly weave her energy into that of her friend's, hoping to impart some calm.

There was a knock on their dorm room door. And the twins entered without waiting for answer. "Oh, my god." Odette rushed to Piper's side, wrapping her in a hug. "Oh my god, sweetie. How are you holding up?" Piper's breath started to hitch. "All I can think about is that they might be out there dying, and I never got to tell Tod how I feel! Why couldn't I have been braver?" She broke down into sobs. Adele's lip was on the verge of quivering. Despite her professional manner, she was an incredibly sensitive empath, and Piper's tears were getting to her. She wasn't the only one. Odette was rocking the crying Piper, tears forming in her own eyes. "Oh, sweetie. It's okay. It'll be okay. Just wait and see." She kissed the top of the frizzing red curls.

It took Piper quite a while to calm down. By the time she was done shaking, and her sobs had subsided, the other three girls were pulling out their phones in answer to various notification tones. "Cory has something," Odette gasped, "He says to meet him in the Big Commons in Pine and he'll tell us the news." Piper murmured about not going out in public looking a total mess and rushed out and in the directions of the bathrooms. "I'll help her," Odette grabbed a few makeup items from Piper's open purse and followed in the wake of her friend. Adele and Allison remained seated.

"How are you?" Allison laid her hand on Adele's knee. Adele took a deep breath. "There are just so many feelings coming out of everyone, it's overwhelming. I don't know if I can keep it all in." Adele had become more receptive of Allison's offerings of help over the semester and had been working steadily on her sensitivity. Allison thought she had made great progress, but an event like this could really put a strain on Adele, even with all the new techniques she'd learned. She got up and knelt at one of the drawers beneath her bed. She pulled out a smooth, black stone. She presented it to Adele. "Obsidian crystal, it'll help to ground you while we go through this." Adele gave a soft chuckle, "Are you sure you don't want to give this to Piper? She seems like she needs it more than I do." Allison pulled another stone from the drawer. "Rose Quartz will help balance her emotions. She is all over the place." Adele nodded, and had just tucked her obsidian into a front pocket of her jeans when the other two girls returned.

Piper was fresh faced, some cold water had helped the swelling of her eyelids to go down, and she had on a new layer of green eyeliner and black mascara. The green made her hazel eyes stand out, and she had run a brush through her hair. "Okay," Odette looked refreshed herself, a fresh coat of deep purple lipstick swacked on, "We're ready." The girls left, moving swiftly, running the last few steps into the next building over. Pine Towers was a near duplicate of Cedar Hall, but it was much taller, having eleven levels to Cedar Hall's six. The rest of the guys were already there, congregated around Cory, who was sitting tensely with his elbows on his knees and hands clasped into a fist in front of his face. Odette took command, "Dish."

"You know how my uncle and cousins are in the force?" Cory shifted in his seat, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. "One of them sent me a few, unofficial details." He swiped a password across the surface of the device and handed it off to be passed around the group. "They found Frank's car." Red was the first one to take the phone. "Fuck. That looks bad." Piper didn't want to hear that, and when she saw the picture she gasped, "I knew something awful happened to them." She struggled not to cry in front of the group. Allison pressed something into her hand. Piper didn't bother to look at it, just rubbed her thumb furiously over the cold, smooth surface.

"What can we do?" Declan asked the question, his deep voice vibrating around the group. "Well," Cory took his phone back, "Gregory said that they're searching the area around the crash site and that there is only a small amount of blood, so it looks like they were okay after the crash. As for what we can do…I think we've already done it. We reported them missing. I mean, we didn't really find anything around the campsite, so there's nothing more we _can_ do." Red scoffed, "Other than answer all their damn questions repeatedly."

"Yeah," Cory conceded with a shrug, "Other than answer their questions."

"Have they found their phones?" Declan sat on the arm of Cory's chair and it tipped a little. Cory flipped through his messages. "No sign of them, and they've not gotten any GPS signal for either of their phones. It's like they've just disappeared."

"Fucking hell." Red breath, running his hands through his now flattened mohawk. "Where in the hell can they be?" Odette stepped over to him and laced her fingers through his and leaned against his arm, stopping his frantic movements. Red's shoulders slumped. "This weekend wasn't supposed to go like this. It was supposed to be fun, not spending our time waiting for something to happen."

"Look," Adele spoke up, "Maybe now that the FBI is involved, they'll be found quicker." She glanced at Cory, "Sorry Cory, no offense to your family." Cory shrugged. "Many hands, right?" Declan pulled out his phone and frowned at the screen. "What's wrong?" Allison asked. "The pizza was supposed to be here five minutes ago. We need food." Declan was a self-proclaimed stress eater, and if ever there was a need for his go-to comfort food it was now. When the five pizzas arrived, the group chowed down, each student eating according to their stress habits. Piper ate five slices of meat lover's pizza while Red hardly ate at all. Allison scrapped off all the toppings on her slice, and just ate the sauce-topped crust loaded with ranch dressing.

Cory tried to get more information out of his cousins, but they responded that they dare not share more, and that there really wasn't anything new to pass on anyway. The group was disappointed but didn't blame Cory for not pushing the issue. A little information was better than none. The evening ended with the group splitting up to go back to their respective dorms. The girls decided to have an impromptu sleepover, since none of them could concentrate on homework anyway, and needed the support and comfort that came from being near each other.

Odette and Adele moved blankets and pillows into Piper and Allison's room, taking over the floor between the two beds despite the offered use of the beds themselves. "We're fine on the floor," Odette insisted, "It's not as if we've been sleeping all that well anyway." Shortly afterwards, they all fell into a fitful sleep.

Piper awoke with a start. Her pillow was vibrating, buzzing the pillowcase against her ear. She pulled her phone out from underneath the pillow and tried to read the too bright screen through her sleep-blurred vision. It was a little after four in the morning and someone had texted her. Why on earth would someone text her at four in the morning. She read the message, and gasped. On the floor one of the twins sat up in a flurry of blankets. "What, what's happening?" It was Odette, her long hair, which she had left loose, was snarled on the left side of her head. Piper flashed the screen of her phone at the blinking girl. "Check your phone. Cory sent a group text and I need to be sure I'm not dreaming."

Odette fumbled around, finally pulling her phone free from a tangle of thick material. Adele and Allison were also rousing, disturbed by the noise. Odette grabbed ahold of her sister with a gasp of her own. "They've found them! They found Tod and Frank!" All four girls were now sitting on the floor, a standing lamp illuminating their group as they all confirmed that they'd received the same message. There were sighs and exclamations of relief and Piper started to cry again. Adele stood up, "I'm hungry, does anyone want a snack?" She left the room and returned shortly carrying a clear plastic bucket half-full of red licorice, and an unopened package of Chips A'Hoy chocolate chip cookies. "Take as many as you like. Has Cory said anymore? Where they were found, are they okay?"

"He hasn't sent anything else yet." Allison took four cookies; they weren't exactly vegan, but she wanted the chocolate. Piper pulled a knot of licorice out of the bucket and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Everyone is asking him for more information, but he hasn't responded yet." No sooner had the words left her mouth than Cory sent a second message, longer than the first. The two missing men had been found some three hours away from the campsite, in what appeared to be an abandoned pine mill. And they were on their way to the Westwood Regional Hospital. "Oh, my god," Piper put down the licorice, "They have to be alright; they just have to be."

Odette rubbed her back, "It's okay, sweetie, Westwood Regional is the best place for them right now, I'm sure they're going to be well taken care of." Piper leaned into her friend and closed her wet eyes. "We won't be able to see them right away will we?" Adele shook her head, swallowed a bite of a cookie and said, "I don't think we'll be able to see them for quite a while. They'll probably have to answer a lot of questions and who knows what kind of care they'll need in the hospital."

"Hopefully nothing more than dehydration," Allison reassured her friend, she had already heated up a kettle of water on its electric base and had poured the liquid into a delicately compact teapot. Handing each of the other girls matching teacups, she slowly poured golden, chamomile tea into the cups. The warm liquid steamed with sweetness from the honey she'd put into the pot, and the floral notes of the chamomile were meant to comfort and calm. It worked for the most part, and none of the girls complained about the bits of loose chamomile leaves floating in the bottom of their cups.

With no more word from Cory, and the clock ticking closer to their need to get ready for classes, the twins gathered up their belongings, and left, calling that they'd meet up for coffee around noon. While Piper got ready to head to the showers, Allison gathered up the teacups. Thankfully everyone had left a little bit of the tea in the bottom of the cups. Everyone except for Piper. She had drained hers to the last drop. Allison couldn't blame her. She probably needed as much chamomile as she could get. However; Allison was hoping to read Piper's tea leaves. It was a little deceptive she knew, reading someone's leaves without asking their permission, but she was never quite sure how her roommate would react to her practices, and her last roommate had been downright furious, comparing Allison to a demon-worshiping witch and demanding to be allowed to move to another dorm.

After purposefully not looking at anyone's cup but her own, she waited until after Piper had left the room to pull a large deck of cards from the drawer of the nightstand. She sat down at her desk, she always kept the space clear, and after running her palm along its length, lit a mini white, tapered candle that she secured on the needle-like spoke of a bowled candle holder. White for purity and truth. For truth. She took a deep, cleansing breath, and broke the seal on the box. She had to buy a new deck of tarot cards after a moving accident caused her to lose her previous deck, and she hadn't felt the need to do a reading up until now, but now…she hoped the reading would be accurate, even with a new deck.

She shuffled the cards. Once. Twice. Three times. Then split the deck into threes and continued to divide until she had three singular cards. She stared at the intricate design on the back of the cards. This was it. She had put her intentions onto the cards as she shuffled and divided and these three were to represent Frank's present, past, and future. They were the quickest reading she could do in the time she had. She took another breath, this time with her eyes closed and her mind focused on what she was about to see. And, without looking, flipped over the first card.


	14. Chapter 14

Savages

Chapter Fourteen

Frank woke up surrounded by the beeping and humming of machines and the stillness of a darkened hospital room. It was too dark. He felt panic creeping up his neck like a flush, and he frantically felt around for the remote that would allow him to turn on the lights. Once the lights were brighter, but not so bright that they hurt his eyes, he looked around. He was alone. No one sat in the chairs next to the bed, no nurse or doctor hovering over him with clipboards or medical instruments. Just alone. He looked back at the chairs. There was a coat laying across the arm of the chair closest to his bed. So, someone was there for him after all. That was a relief. He didn't want to be left alone in the dark again.

He ran his fingers across the tape that held the IV needle in his right arm. It hurt. A dull, aching presence coupled with a slight full feeling that came from the attached machine pumping clear liquid into him. "You're awake, good." Frank didn't look up but instead picked at a corner of the tape. "You better leave that alone, Frank. You're severely dehydrated." Frank stopped worrying at the tape and let his hand fall into his lap. "It itches."

Fenton Hardy reached out to pat Frank's left arm. "I know." They sat quietly for a moment, Frank not looking at his father, and Fenton trying to read his son's face. "How are you feeling?" Frank didn't answer right away, instead his closed his eyes and let his head sink farther into the pillow that propped him up. He felt cold. The thin hospital sheet and blanket barely imparted any warmth, and he was sore all over. Particularly his forehead and along the left side of his body. "I don't know. Achy. Tired. Maybe a little hungry."

Fenton exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding until that moment. "You'll be able to eat something soon. Just try and relax for now." Frank's hand twitched, his wrist encircled by a hospital band that all but covered the bruising beneath its white width. Fenton hadn't been there when the Frank and the other young man had been found abandoned in a dilapidated structure, but as ever he could see the aftereffects. Frank's unwillingness to talk was new. Normally he set aside his unease in order to help the investigation into who had kidnapped him, but this time…this time something was keeping him from engaging.

The doctors' assessment had been quick: dehydration, three cracked ribs, and the cut on his forehead would leave a little scar, but nothing that wouldn't heal. Their concern, and Fenton's, was for Frank's mental well-being. But that couldn't be judged until he'd healed a little more or else his physical afflictions could influence how he responded mentally. It'd be at least another day before a psychiatrist could talk to him. Fenton was worried about the results. He knew that Frank would have to work through some things before he would talk. He looked away from the hospital bed. His son looked like a six-year-old, too scared and intimidated to do anything but lay there.

"Where's Tod?" Fenton looked up to see his son looking at him for the first time. "He's a couple of rooms down. He's…" Fenton struggled for the right words, "He needs a lot of care."

"Can I see him?" Fenton wasn't surprised by the question and hoped that Frank would understand the answer. "He needs rest, no one can visit for now."

"Except you, right?" Frank knew that his dad was in on the investigation, he had to be. And as a member of the investigative team, he would be allowed to check on the victims of the crime. Victims. His brain stuttered over the word. He was a victim. Tod was a victim. Tod. Frank's stomach heaved, but there was nothing in it. He fought to swallow the sick feeling. He had to see Tod. Had to. Had to know he was alright. "Have you seen him? How is he, really?"

"Frank," Fenton's voice was even, "We need to let the professionals worry about him for now. You have your own healing to do."

"You don't understand," Frank's eyes stung, "I have to see him." Fenton placed a hand on Frank's arm again, "There are things that need to be sorted out first."

"Is it about Tod? Is it stuff with him?" Fenton was mildly surprised at Frank's question, he wasn't wrong. Fenton was trying to decide whether he should tell Frank what little they knew now, or later, but he would have to tell him eventually. This was too close to keep it entirely in the dark. But before he could decide Frank spoke again. "He said he knew you. He said you killed his father."

"We've never met," Fenton began, "But I think I did know his father." It had been a little over twenty-four hours since the two had been brought to the hospital, and twenty-four hours could reveal so much if one had the right tools. "His father was a deeply psychologically disturbed ex-militant, known to the law enforcement community as a member of a radical group of sovereign citizens. He was involved with attacks on government structures and in the deaths of several government officials. It took us a couple of years to find him."

"And Tod?" Frank was having a hard time comprehending this information. Tod avoided talking about politics and seemed to hold no animosity for authority. Or had he been hiding that too? "Was he involved?" Fenton shook his head. "There's currently no sign of that. If he was, then his actions have been well hidden. _He_ was well hidden."

"What do you mean?" Fenton took a breath and leaned back in his chair. "We didn't know he existed," he confessed, "There is no record of him anywhere, no birth certificate, no social security number, no fingerprints in the system. We were only able to link him to his father by a broad DNA comparison. It came up in an archival search, his father's DNA had been retrieved from one of the assassination sites." The last result had only just been reported to him. He'd chosen well when he'd again pulled Cy for the job.

"That can't be right," Frank struggled to sit up. The IV line became entangled in the bed covering and he had to stop and untangle it as it shifted the needle painfully in his arm. "He couldn't have gotten into the university without identification."

"That's right," Fenton acknowledged, "The identification he provided were good forgeries. Enough to get him jobs and into Westwood U."

"And there was no evidence of him living in the cabin with his father? How is that possible? He said he was there and_ saw_ you kill his dad." Fenton really was surprised then. How did Frank know where they had found the terrorist? Fenton was sure he hadn't said. "There was a second room," more of a small closet if he remembered right, "but the place had been wiped clean and there was no DNA trace. It seems like his father trained him to be a ghost."

Frank blinked, trying to digest all this information. "What's his name?" He tsked, "Nevermind. You said there are no records."

"His father had denounced his name and was using various aliases," Fenton explained, "so we don't even have a proper last name for him. We have to go by the name on the forged papers. Until he gives us something different."

"How old was he when this all happened?"

"If we go by his supposed birth date, he would've been around fourteen when we found his father."

Frank winced. Fourteen and losing his father. Fourteen and forced to live on his own. "It was bad wasn't it, when you finally found his father?"

Fenton didn't like remembering that day. Some good men had died that day. Frank didn't need to know. "No. It wasn't good." If Tod had seen that, it was a small wonder that he hadn't turned out to be just as deeply disturbed. Maybe he was. Fenton was beginning to look forward to the results of the psych test.

Frank slowly began to cobble the information over in his mind. He felt like he was finally understanding what made Tod tick. Why he acted the way he did. Why he'd kidnapped Frank. Frank had no idea what Tod had been planning on doing to him after the kidnapping, but the reason was clear. He'd wanted revenge for what had happened to his father. And now…Frank didn't know what to think. He couldn't entirely blame Tod for feeling the way he did, and he couldn't blame him for what happened after. Scenes flashed through his mind. No. He couldn't blame him now. Not after all that happened.

The entrance of a blue-scrub clad nurse broke through his concentration. She checked the machines, his blood pressure, his drip, asked how he was feeling, and said she'd bring him some crackers to see how his appetite was coming along. Crackers didn't sound so bad, but having not eaten for so long, hunger had knawed his stomach into near numbness, so hungry is what he knew he should be, but he almost didn't _want_ to eat.

"You're finally awake! God, I leave for a few months and look where you end up." Frank's lips lifted in a half-smile. "Hey, Joe." Joe Hardy didn't bother slipping off his jacket before he reached over the bedrails to give his brother an awkward hug. "Ribs," Fenton cautioned from the chair. "Oh," Joe lifted his arms away, "right." Frank gave his brother the once over. "Your hair is long."

"Really? What are you, a girl?" Joe teased. "You haven't seen me since summer and all you say is that my hair is long?" Joe's exuberant energy bordered on nervous. Frank's smile widened a crack. "Good to see you, Joe." Joe grew still, becoming a little more serious, "And it's _really_ good to see you." The nurse reentered, bearing a few individual packets of Saltines and stood by to watch him eat half a cracker before he stopped eating. "Don't feel like you need to eat them all right now, just keep trying." She left. _'I can't eat another fucking bite.'_ Frank thought with disgust as he set the cracker down. He was feeling tired, which confused him because it wasn't as if he'd expended a lot of energy over the last…how many days had it been? Two? He hadn't thought to ask. "How long were we missing?"

"Almost four days." Fenton watched his son closely. Frank was good at covering a lot of his reactions, but at the mention of four days he fell slowly back onto the pillow and closed his eyes tightly. "Four days. Fuck me—Sorry." Fenton shook his head dismissively. "How long do I have to stay?"

"Perhaps another full day."

"And Tod," Frank opened his eyes and looked at his father again, hoping to spot a lie if his father tried to sugarcoat it, "How long does he need to stay?"

"Longer." It was the only answer Fenton could safely give. He'd seen some of the damage done, and even he could tell that more than stitches were going to be needed. They might keep Tod even longer is his psych evaluation proved bad enough. And Fenton was guessing that might be the case. It was a kidnapping with what looked like to be torture. Things had to be approached a little more delicately. There might be a danger of suicide. And Tod would struggle with PTSD. Frank did. Both his boys did. In fact, Fenton glanced at his youngest, Joe was holding up particularly well for being in a hospital. Either that or he was covering his anxiety for Frank's sake.

"Mr. Hardy," a grey-haired man in a white coat that ended at his knees half entered the room, "I need to speak with you for a minute." Fenton resisted the urge to frown. Meetings that began with those words had a fifty-fifty chance of having bad outcomes. "I'll be back." He followed the doctor out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Joe stuck his hands in his pants pockets and leaned forward. "They've got officers posted outside you room and another one. Did you know?" Frank managed a small shake 'no'. They were quiet before Joe asked another question, this time in a voice so soft that it was barely above a whisper. "Was it bad?" Frank couldn't answer, there was a ball of tears choking him. Even though he and his brother didn't share every kidnapping experience, they usually talked about it with each other. But he couldn't share this with Joe, he couldn't tell what he'd seen—the cracker made a second appearance. Joe scrambled for to fill a small paper cup from the sink in the room. "Sorry," Frank tasted bitter bile and hurriedly took the offered cup, "Sorry."

"Don't," Joe's hand was trembling on Frank's back, "Just don't. You don't have to tell." He had seen Frank in a bad way before, but this was the first time he literally vomited at the thought of talking. Frank was bent over his knees, hiding his face and sniffling softly while using a tissue Joe handed him to dab the pasty vomit from off the blanket.

Frank balled up the tissue and squeezed it hard. He didn't want to remember. Didn't want to talk. If he said out-loud what he'd seen, then it would be real, and he couldn't pretend that it hadn't happened. _'But it did____happen.'_ He furiously threw the tissue ball as hard as he could at the small, black trash can under the sink. He missed. He barked out a laugh. Fenton entered the room then, and if he saw traces of tears on Frank face, he didn't say anything. "Frank, there are some people here, are you up for visitors?"

Frank nearly shook his head, but he could use a distraction. Any distraction. He hid his right hand under the blanket, no use in scaring everyone with his bruises. He nodded to Fenton, who opened the door and motioned for someone to come in. Three someones. Red, Cory, and Declan. Frank almost laughed out loud. Declan's hugeness dominated the corner with the chairs. "Hey, how are you?"

"I'll be okay." The lie was too easy. Joe knew, but he didn't acknowledge it as he shook each of the other men's hands, introducing himself. "Well, shit, if you don't look just like Tod!" Red's hair was in full, flamboyant array, fanning down his skull in stiff spikes. "So, I've been told." Joe grinned back.

"Have you met Tod yet?"

"Can't say that I've had the opportunity."

"Well, I'd like to be there when you do." Red's own grin pushed at his glittering black eyes. Frank's mind leapt to another pair of glittering eyes and he turned his head quickly to hide the brief flash of fear he knew was on his face, but the group turned to him after hearing his gasp. "Everything ok?" It was Cory who asked, his nearly invisible brows pushed together in the middle. Frank waved his left hand, being careful not to let the hospital bracelet slip too much. "It's all that pomade in Red's hair. Did you use the whole jar?" The group laughed as Red reached up to touch his spikes.

They spent a little time together, each one taking a turn in filling Frank in on various assignments, "But you'll probably get extended deadlines with all this." Red told Frank that the girls wanted to come visit as well but had remained on campus, letting the boys come first in case they got rejected. "Allison seems eager to talk to you. Odette says she's has been reading her Tarot cards, so I don't know what you want to make of that. But I wouldn't read too much into it." Red winked as he delivered the pun. It was laughed at, none of them took Allison and her machinations seriously. The guys didn't linger over their goodbyes and it wasn't too awkward when they left. "Who's Allison? She sounds like a real character."

"She's a practicing Wiccan." Frank answered Joe's question. "She comes up with some interesting takes of life, but this is the first time I've heard of her using Tarot cards." Any further conversation was interrupted by their father, who was looking a little grim. "Dad?" Frank pushed himself straighter in the bed, hands pressed into the mattress. Fenton looked down at the floor before answering. "Tod is not doing well, Frank."

Joe didn't know how attached to Tod Frank was, so he watched his brother carefully as their father continued. "Some of his wounds have gone septic and the infection has spread." Frank dropped his head and Joe saw the knuckles on his brother's hands go white as he clenched them. "He's not fighting it, so the chances of him…" Frank was shaking his head now, as if to deny what he was hearing. "…the chances of him making it are not good."

"It's not fair." Joe leaned in a little to hear what his brother was saying. "It's not fair, he's gotten so far, why is he giving up?" Frank looked up. "Can I see him now? If his chances aren't good, I'd like to see him now." Fenton nodded, "I'll clear it with the doctor."

Frank was a little unsteady on his feet at first, but grabbing Joe's arm hard, he managed to pull himself back up again. He had to bring his IV drip along, but they pointed the way to a room two doors down. Frank entered the room alone; Fenton had some things to take care of and Joe excused himself saying that he was a perfect stranger and that it didn't feel right. Frank stood just inside the door, taking several deep breaths before moving closer to the bed.

Tod was positioned on his side facing the door, his back was exposed to the open air and there was mess of lines wrapped around the stand that fed his IV. He was pale with his cheeks flaming red and his eyes were closed. Frank had seen him sick with the flu once at the beginning of the semester and he looked a little like that then. The swelling in his face had gone down, but his lips were split and there were dark bruises around his mouth. The darkness of the room they'd been held in had hidden much of the injuries and Frank swallowed hard and steeled himself before peeking over Tod's shoulder.

Some of the wounds were stitched, the small ones were let alone, but there were several of the much larger ones looked like they had at first been stitched but were now open and seeping with white pus and strange fluid. "Oh, my god," Frank breathed. He felt cold all over and there were strange tingling chills racing across his bones. He swallowed. This couldn't be real. He looked down and saw Tod watching him. He hadn't moved, so Frank had no idea that he'd been awake.

"Hideous, isn't it." Tod's voice was rough, and his eyes were soulless. _'He really has given up.'_

"You're dying." After everything they'd been through together, Frank figured that blunt was the way to go.

"I know."

"Then fight it." Tod's eyes slid away. "No."

"Why the fuck not?" Frank felt anger biting at him, what could he say to make this idiot wake up? "Why not fight it? You've fought to get this far. Fight a little longer."

"I have nothing to go back to."

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't face anyone like this. Not after they find out…" Tod's voice trailed off. Frank wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. "No one has to know if you don't want them to. I sure as hell won't tell them. And you don't have to either. It's your choice." Tod made as if to shake his head, "It's not worth it."

"It's worth it to me. If you can't live for yourself, then live for someone else. Live for me."

Tod laughed bitterly, and seethed, "You know we're not friends, right?"

"I don't know that."

"I can't be friends with you Frank."

"Why? Cause you hate me? Cause I know?" Tod was shrinking in on himself. "All of it. I can't face you, and you already know, how can I face everyone else who doesn't know."

"Because they _don't_ _know_." Frank wasn't sure he was getting through to him. Tod didn't say anything, and he wasn't looking at Frank. Frank continued more softly. "I'm not saying it will be easy. And you'll need help. _We_ need help. But you can do it. I've done it. And you're stronger than I am." Tod looked at him then, his eyes shining, "How? With what help? A shrink? How can I say tell _that_ to a stranger?"

"Because they _are_ a stranger. Because they're trained in how to help. Because many of them have heard similar stories." Frank made a decision. "I've been seeing one for four years now. And if I can do it, then so can you."

"Because I'm stronger than you?" Tod's voice had grown thick, either with emotion or medication. Frank looked at the tower of IV bags hanging next to the bed. They must be pumping him with everything they've got. "Yeah, because you're stronger than me." Tod was quiet and his eyes were drifting shut, his mouth moved but nothing came out of it. Frank stood there, his heart squeezing in his chest. "Fight, damn it." Did he imagine it, or did a corner of Tod's mouth lift a little? "Please." Maybe it was selfish, maybe it was cruel, but he didn't want to be left alone with these memories. He needed someone else who knew. And Tod was the only one who had shared in the nightmare. He didn't want to be left alone.

He didn't realize that he'd been crying until afterwards when he left the room and Joe had made a hurried wipe-your-face motion with his hand, glancing furtively at the approaching figure of their father. Frank signed a thank you and started back to his room. He was done talking for the day. He just wanted to sleep. And in a bed too, nevermind that it was a hospital bed. A bed, and not a sawdust covered floor. He could still smell the acrid burntness of it. Fenton stopped him before he could make it to the safety of his room. "You're staying overnight, and you're to see a psychiatrist in the morning." Frank nodded, accepting. "I need to leave, but I'll be back in the morning."

Frank lay back in the bed, and another nurse came in to check his vitals again and change his IV bag. Joe was still there, playing a game on his phone with the noise turned low. "You feel like eating something better than crackers?" Frank pulled the blanket up around his shoulders, "Why? What are you thinking?" Joe grinned, Frank wasn't sure the smile was meant for him or the game. "Burgers." Frank shook his head, "I might try some soup if you come across any." But when Joe returned with food from the upstairs cafeteria, Frank was fast asleep.


	15. Chapter 15

Savages

Chapter Fifteen

The next morning brought with it more attempts at eating, he could get a whole cracker down now, and the hospital psychiatrist. Despite his experiences with his own psychiatrist, Frank was not ready to meet the man's gentle yet pointedly probing questions. It took more minutes than he cared to count before he could say that he didn't like the dark, and that he couldn't stand it when people stood in doorways. To say that he felt guilty over what had happened to Tod while virtually nothing had happened to him took even longer. "You were there," the man said calmly, "You were a witness. That makes you as much a victim as your friend."

"I didn't just see," tears welled up in Frank's eyes, "I also did something…something that hurt him. I hurt him too."

"Did you do it on purpose?"

"I…I don't…they made me…"

"If it was not on your own volition then you're not responsible for those actions. You meant him no harm and presumably only did it under threat—"

"I could've resisted, I could've said no."

"Could you have? Really?"

Frank thought back to the glinting blade that had been held, not at his throat, but at Tod's. It had been a clear threat: _do as I say, or he dies now_. Maybe it would've been better for Tod if Frank had just let him die. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought. "No. I couldn't."

"It's not your fault then, is it?"

"It's _my fault_ that he was there. _My fault_ that he was kidnapped too. _My fault_ that they did—" he choked, and tears began their journey down his cheeks, "that they did such terrible things to him."

"_They_ were the ones that kidnapped him, not you." The psychiatrist said soothingly, "It was _their_ decisions, not yours, that all these things happened. How do you think it would've gone for him had you not been there?"

Frank shook his head again, a tear dropping onto the fresh pair of jeans Joe had brought him. Would things have been any different? Would Tod have been tortured less had he not been there? Nothing would've happened. Tod wouldn't have been taken in the first place. Or maybe, because he looked so much like Joe, he would've been taken anyways, and they may have just killed him when they figured out, he wasn't Joe Hardy after all. Frank squeezed his eyes shut. It was so confusing. "I don't know." The meeting ended shortly afterwards, with the psychiatrist recommending that Frank see his mental healthcare professional as soon as possible.

"You are going to need help to get through this difficult time. But I think you're already on the right track." Frank knew that. He did. It was just sometimes hard to admit that he needed the help, that he couldn't stand on his own two feet and face this monster. He winced. It was a monster. _That man _had been a _monster_. A monster Frank desperately wanted to be rid of.

Fenton arrived, bring with him welcome news of Tod's progress. He had lived through the night and was showing small but definite signs of recovery. Frank sighed with relief. Maybe he had been of some help after all. "Frank." Frank was putting on his shoes, preparing to be discharged. "Yeah, Dad?"

"I didn't want to ask you yesterday because you needed the rest, but the doctor told me that Tod has markings of heavy sexual assault. Were you a witness to this?" Frank's movements halted. He didn't look up. He tried to go back to tying the laces on his shoes, but his fingers kept getting caught on the loops, like he'd forgotten how to do it. "Frank? They've already gathered the rape kit. It's just a matter of time before we—"

"You won't find anything." There was a moment of silence while Frank finally got his shoes tied, but he stayed where he was, hunched over, his hands on the laces. "He wasn't…it wasn't…there was protection."

"I see." Frank heard the scraping of the legs of the chair as his father stood up. There was a hand on his shoulder. Frank supposed it was meant to be a comforting gesture, but he shrugged it off, drawing his shoulders up to his ears, trying to drown out the sounds. He was shaking. "I couldn't…I couldn't…do anything." He whispered to his red and white sneakers, "I was so useless. I couldn't _do anything_!" The hand was back, this time Frank let it stay.

"We _will_ get them, son. We won't stop looking."

They stopped in on Tod before leaving. He was asleep and there were fresh, snow white bandages on his back. He was looking marginally better. Frank leaned over to whisper, "Hang in there." Then he turned, and still not looking his father in the face, asked, "Can we help him?" His father motioned him out of the room. They started on the walk out to the elevators.

"There will be some trouble about his lack of authentic identification, and there is a chance he'll go to prison for fraud. But I think, under the circumstances, a sympathetic judge might be willing to allow him to receive psychiatric treatment in a mental healthcare facility and we can see what can be done about getting him a real identity in the meantime. And maybe the damage done at the university can be repaired. We can at least try."

Frank said nothing, focusing on the laminated floor and the dinging of the elevator as it passed other floors. When the silver doors slid open, Frank was in such a hurry to get into the elevator, that he shouldered his way past two other people who were getting off. "Sorry," he mumbled. The ride down was silent. Their walk to the car was silent. Frank strapped himself into the backseat next to Joe, refusing to sit up front with their father. "Do you want to go home? Or do you want me to drive you back to the dorms?"

"Dorms." Frank didn't know why his father had even asked the question. Home was over five hours away, and all his belongings were at the dorm anyway. And he didn't want to face his mother. Not yet. The ride to campus seemed to stretch for eons, Frank concentrating on the sound of the engine and the sounds of traffic around them. Once they reached campus Frank directed his father to the parking lot closest to Cedar Hall. He wasn't surprised when both his father and Joe exited the car and followed him into the building. But when they arrived at his dorm room Frank asked to be left alone.

"Please." He avoided his father's gaze. "I need to be alone." Even when Joe tried to follow him anyway, Frank had hurriedly shut the door in his brother's face. It was rude but frankly, he didn't give a fuck. Frank thought about one of Red's favorite t-shirts: No Fucks Given. That was exactly how he felt. He looked around the room. It was almost strange to see how nothing had changed. His bed was still neatly made, his shoes were still lined up at the foot of the bed. His desk was still stacked with papers and binders and pens. He looked over at Tod's half of the room.

Tod kept his minimal belongings neat and organized. Nothing out of place. Frank knew now that such habits stemmed from his upbringing, the result of living with a strict and controlling father. Frank suddenly felt all the weight of the last six days press down on him, and he sank onto his bed. He began to sob. Falling to his side and folding his pillow around his head and pressing hard over his ears, he sobbed until he was too tired to cry anymore. And when he stopped, the weight had eased a little and he let his eyes drift closed. And he slept.

It was after dark when he woke up. A knock at his door had brought him out of the first dreamless sleep he'd had since before that weekend. It was Joe. Holding a box of pizza. "We figured you'd be hungry." Frank thanked him and let him into the room. They sat together, eating pizza, although Frank could only force down one slice, savoring the spice of the tomato sauce and the crunch of crispy discs of pepperoni. "Dad and I have rented a room in a hotel downtown," Joe said. "We want to stay until all this can be hashed out a little more." Frank nodded his understanding. "Dad said that the university is going to allow you some time off to get back on your feet. So, don't worry about having to make up assignments just yet."

But Frank wanted to make up assignments. He needed the distraction that homework would bring. He had already decided to attend class the next day. "I want to keep going."

"No." Joe was firm. "You need the time, Frank. You and I both know that it'll only get worse if you don't take the time to address the memories. Dad's already called and set up a tele appointment with Dr. Andrews—"

"I can do that myself," Frank snapped, "I don't need to be treated like a child."

"I know," Joe calmly chewed his way through a bite of pizza, "But you're more stubborn than I am, and Dad's worried that you won't do what needs to be done. He's right, and you know it." Frank's shoulders slumped and he wiped some grease off his fingers using a coarse, brown napkin. "Yeah."

"Dad says that we can drive you back to the hospital to visit Tod first thing in the morning. If that's what you want."

"Yes." Frank straightened. "That's what I want."

"I get that you don't want to leave him alone," Joe closed the pizza box, there were still several slices left, "But don't you think seeing you will bring back the memories of what happened for him?"

"He has no one else. I don't know what else to do besides be there for him. He needs someone to care."

"Dad told me," Joe said softly, his blue eyes full of concern, "He told me everything. Are you sure _you're_ going to be okay, going back to see him?" Frank understood what his brother was saying. The visit would bring memories back for him as well as for Tod. But he simply had to be there. Tod was alone. And being left alone was the worst thing after such trauma. Frank knew his own dark thoughts and had already seen how Tod felt when he'd talked to him about suicide by neglect. He didn't want Tod to be left to contemplate suicide by other means.

"I'm going."

"Okay." Joe stood up, "I brought a sleeping bag if you don't want to stay by yourself." Frank thought that it might be better if he had his brother there after all. He knew that nightmares were bound to make an appearance, and he needed someone there who understood and could help him get a grip.

The next few days were slightly monotonous: get up, try and eat something, go see Tod, try to eat something, talk with his father, try to eat something. His appetite was slowly increasing, but it still didn't feel comfortable to eat. Tod wasn't eating at all. He was refusing to let anything pass his lips, and Frank couldn't blame him. He had finally gotten Tod to agree to try something, as long as he could be the one to feed himself. Their conversations were halting, a little awkward and uncomfortable. But Frank had insisted on staying with him when his father had arrived with the authorities to charge Tod with several counts of fraud.

Tod's eyes had widened at the sight of Fenton Hardy, and he trembled with emotion the entire time the detective was in the room. Fenton had seen the look of mixed fear and hate on the youth's face and excused himself at an appropriate moment. Frank, afraid his friend wasn't understanding what was going on, watched closely as the stern-faced policeman asked, "Do you understand these charges brought against you?"

Tod was still stunned. His eyes slightly unfocused, and he looked at Frank. Frank reached for his arm, laying a hand on it and explaining in simpler terms what the charges were for. Dumbly Tod turned back to the police officers and nodded. And, still in shock, watched as one of the officers pulled out a pair of handcuffs and walked over to the right side of the bed and grasped his right wrist. Suddenly panicked, he struggled against the policeman and Frank could see the terror in his eyes. "Stop." Fenton was in the room. He motioned the police officers to join him outside. Frank murmured quietly to Tod, trying to calm the sudden erratic movements of the young man, telling him that everything was okay, that he was in a safe place.

When nothing he said worked, and Tod began struggling against him instead, two nurses entered the room, one gently yet firmly holding Tod's arms still, the other swiftly pressed the contents of a syringe cartridge into the IV port. Slowly Tod's movement decreased, and he started to sink back onto the bed. "Please," his spoke slowly, already succumbing to the medication, "Frank…don't let them…" Frank understood. Tod didn't want to be restrained. The bruises around their wrists had yellowed, but there was still enough of the bruise left to remind them of how the zip ties felt as they were tightened around their wrists. And Tod had the added bruises from where the c-clamps had held him captive in the chair. No restraints.

Fenton re-entered the room, sans police officers. "We've agreed that Tod won't be restrained at this time. But they're moving him to the area of the hospital secured for prisoners. You won't be able to visit him until after the hearing is over."

"He's not dangerous—"

"I'm sorry, Frank. But that's the way things have to be." Frank looked down at Tod, who was murmuring incoherently. "Can I stay with him until he goes?"

"You can have until they've arranged for his transportation."

"I just need that long." Frank was looking at his palms, where he had been digging his fingernails to keep himself under control. There were four deep, crescent-shaped grooves in the center of his left hand. He rubbed his right thumb hard over them, willing them to disappear. When he looked up, his father wasn't there. _'He's probably gone to oversee things.'_ He looked back at Tod. It wasn't fair. All Tod had done was survive, and now he was being punished for something he wasn't responsible for. It wasn't his fault that his father had made him invisible. He'd only tried to live normally. _'Well, as normal as he could. I wonder if he watched people to see what normal was?'_

He sat there, listening to the steady beep of the heart monitor, of the sounds the hospital bed made as he sat at the foot of it, of Tod's now steady breathing. "Tod? Can you hear me?" The eye shifted beneath closed lids. "Mmmmhhhhmmmm."

"They're going to take you away, Tod. Take you somewhere I can't go. To you understand?"

"I'm…" the Tod's eyes were still closed, and his voice was a whisper, "…going away…"

"Not forever," Frank said firmly, "Just for a while, but I can't come with you. You're going to have to do this on your own."

"…alone…"

"Not alone, just," Frank struggled for a moment, "Just without me being there." He leaned in, not too close but enough to command, "Open your eyes, Tod. I want you to hear me." The eyelids barely lifted, only letting a little of the room's light through. "I want you to keep living, Tod. I want you to keep," Frank stopped, swallowed the break in his voice, then continued, "I want you to keep living. Not for me. But because life is worth it. I want you to see that life is worth it. Please hear me."

"Mmmmmmkay," Tod stopped then, stopped talking, stopped trying to force his eyes open. To Frank it looked like Tod had decided to ride whatever chemical current that was washing through his veins. His head turned slowly on the pillow, and his breathing became even slower. Frank slowly exhaled. How did his mother do it? Stay at his and his brother's sides all the times when they'd been in the hospital, all the times they'd been too drugged up to remember her being there? He wondered if he should just let it be. Let the system take Tod and dump him wherever, possibly never to be seen again. He bit down savagely on the idea. Tod deserved better than what life had given him so far.

"Frank," it was Fenton, "It's time."

'_For now,'_ Frank thought, _'It's just for now. Not forever.'_ And he stood outside the door as nurses prepped Tod and his equipment to be moved. He watched as they wheeled him away, feeling the suffocation of helplessness wrap itself around his throat. _'__**Not**__ forever!'_


	16. Chapter 16

Thank you, readers for joining me on exploring this story, I know that some of these themes may have been hard to read. As this is the last chapter for this story, I wanted to say that I appreciate all the reviews and comments that you've shared, and I hope you continue to share your thoughts and opinions with me.

*I will be conducting "After Story Character Interviews" with most, if not all of the characters from this story, and if you have a question you would like to ask one or all of them, or the author, please post such queries either in the reviews of this story, or head over to the ASCI page and post your questions there. All questions _**will**__ be addressed_ so don't feel shy! Thank you.

**A special thanks to a character that repeatedly appeared throughout this story. Pizza, what would we eat without you.

Savages

Chapter Sixteen

Frank's hands slipped on the knot of his tie, pulling it out of shape. "Shit." He whipped off the tie and slipped the silken noose back into his drawer. He wasn't going to fight with it. He could look just as presentable without a tie. He looked at himself in the mirror on the back of the door. Pressed black slacks, dark blue, button-down shirt, and black dress shoes. He'd run a comb with a little gel on it through his hair, and the style was holding shape, not too casual, not too business. He tugged at the buttoned cuffs at the end of his sleeves. He looked okay. He took a breath and opened the door.

He met Allison just as he was about to leave the Commons. "Frank." She put out a hand and plucked his sleeve at the elbow. "If you see him today, you will remember to tell Tod what I said, won't you? It's important." Frank nodded, then moved silently passed her and down the stairs. After the first two days of being back he'd met the girls coming home from classes, and all four of them muttered their concerns over his still visible injuries. "We just can't believe you two went looking for shelter and ended up trapped under some falling debris! It's a miracle you weren't hurt worse than you were!"

"Yeah," he'd answered, "It's a frickin' miracle."

It'd been a week since then, and today he was on his way to Tod's arraignment hearing. The cogs of the justice system were slow, but this time the delay had been to their favor. Tod had been indicted in absentia, as he was still in the hospital, and they had found a plea to exploit for his unique situation. Now that they were all standing in the courtroom, Tod dressed in plain grey clothes with his hands cuffed in front of him, Frank's nervousness was pulsating in his throat, choking him in place of that damn tie. When the judge announced the leveled charges, and asked for the plea, the defender the Hardy's had hired stood up, and ran a hand briefly over his grey suit jacket to smooth it before saying, "We plea non contendere, your Honor."

"The court accepts the plea, and it is the duty of the court to explain to the defendant that the plea of no contest is to be treated as a plea of guilty. Does the defendant understand the ramifications of this plea?"

There was a pause. "Yes, your Honor, I do." Tod's voice was remarkably calm, although he wasn't directly looking at anyone, and Frank could see that the tenseness in his shoulders belied the calmness in his voice. The judge continued, "And is this plea made of your own volition, without any coercion?"

"Yes, your Honor, I plea voluntarily."

"Then this court will convene until ten o'clock tomorrow morning wherein the sentence will be delivered. Until then the defendant is to be remanded into the custody of the Westwood Police Department."

The gavel drove a sick feeling into Tod's stomach. He had come out of the hospital only to be placed in a holding cell the day before. Many people had asked him questions, and the lawyer had explained multiple times to him what exactly was happening, and what was going to happen. He finally understood what it was all about: his lack of an authentic identity. Not his kidnapping of Frank Hardy. _That_ he couldn't understand. Why hadn't Frank said anything? But standing up, using his shackled hands to steady himself on the smooth, cold wooden rail of the box where he'd been sitting next to the lawyer, the weight of what was to happen to him truly sank in, and he felt heavy on the inside. Would he go to prison?

One police officer, apparently, they didn't think he'd be a lot of trouble, held his right arm by the elbow and steered him out of the courtroom. On the way out he passed the Hardys, Frank, his blonde-headed brother, and Fenton. Tod couldn't bring himself to look the detective in the face. He still hated him but was also confused. They had been helping him, he knew. And he still didn't understand why. He hadn't done anything worthy of their kind attention, so why were they treating him so well?

The ride to the main police station was full of strange codes and commands crackling over the car's radio. And Tod, not wanting to draw attention to himself, stared at his cuffed hands. All his bruises had just about faded, but he could still feel the clamps tearing into his flesh, the stiff edges of the zip ties crushing the bones of his wrist. A flash of memory made his breathing hitch and he squeezed his eyes shut.

He doesn't want it. He didn't want to keep remembering everything over and over. The same images accosting him repeatedly even in his dreams were making him flinch at everything. He struggled to even be around people anymore. Especially tall, thin men. If this was how life was going to be, then he wished they had just killed him.

When they arrived at the station, the officer and the partner that had been waiting in the car, escorted him into the building, and back to another holding cell. It was a very small cell. And he was glad that he was alone. His restraints were removed and the sense of relief that washed over him nearly sat him down in the middle of the floor with its strength. If he was going to go to prison, he hoped he wouldn't be there in handcuffs.

He hadn't been there ten minutes when, yet another police officer arrived, stating that he had a visitor, and would he like to meet him? Figuring it was his lawyer, as the man had murmured to him about seeing him "in a little while", Tod said he was willing, and was handcuffed once more, then guided to a closeted visiting room. As soon as the door opened, Tod wished he had said no. It wasn't his lawyer. It was Fenton Hardy. _'Fuck.'_

"Have a seat." Fenton motioned to the chair on the other side of the table. Warily, Tod made his way to the chair, and gingerly sat down.

"Tod, I'm Fen—"

"I remember who you are. What the hell do you want?" While he knew Fenton must have been involved in everything because of Frank, Tod hadn't seen much of him and preferred to keep it that way. The man merely blinked at Tod's belligerence and calmly continued.

"Your lawyer is preparing to meet with the judge to present your case in full detail to him." Tod felt the blood drain out of his face. Did everyone need to know? "The lawyer should've explained to you that pleading no contest will keep your situation from being exposed to a jury and the public via the news, but; the details must be disclosed to the judge in order for you to receive the best possible chance for a light sentence. As this is your first offense, that, coupled with the…other details of more recent events, should set you up for something not quite as severe as it would be otherwise."

Tod listened quietly. Nothing was quite penetrating; all he could think about was that the next time the judge looked at him he would see someone that had been...had been…he felt himself go numb. It didn't matter anymore. None of it mattered anymore. All he'd been doing up to this point had been pretending that things mattered. They didn't. He didn't. He…

Fenton saw the change that came over the man sitting across from him. He'd been warned by the hospital psychiatrist that after everything he'd been through Tod was mentally fragile, and that there were definite signs of suicidology in the young man. This was tipping him, Fenton could see that, but there was no other way to do things. The lawyer had also talked with the hospital psychiatrist and had added the professional opinion to the evidence he was showing the judge. That might go a long way in putting Tod in a place other than the local prison, but they could only hope. Right now, there was something else he needed to discuss with Tod.

"We've located several members of the group that had kidnapped you and Frank. One of which you may be a little more familiar with than the others, but we need an identification from you as one of the victims in order to charge him with all the…atrocities that you endured." Fenton pulled three photos from a manila folder he'd been holding and arranged them in a row in front of Tod. Tod was silent, observing, white to the lips. "I need you to point him out."

Fenton watched as Tod's eyes slid from the first photograph, to the second, to the third. His eyes locked onto the third image and his breathing became quick and shallow. He brought his cuffed hands up to the picture, covering the bottom half and a portion of the top until all that showed were the eyes of the man in the photograph. Tod shook, and he suddenly pushed back from the table and bent until his head was between his knees. He was gasping harshly, trying to take in great gulps of air and quaking violently.

Fenton turn to address the officer that entered the room, "Everything's okay here. He might need some water." The officer left, hopefully to bring back some water. Fenton waited until Tod had managed to get control of himself and slowly sat back up. His breathing was still heavy, and he was still shaking, but he managed to push the third photo back across the table at Fenton. "That bastard!" Was all he said. Fenton gathered up the photographs. The third one was labeled on the back with a name.

Gerald Meyers. A man connected with several kidnapping cases. Most of which ended in one or more deaths in which the bodies were never found. That they had found Tod and Frank alive, was a miracle that could only be chalked up to the kidnappers not having enough time to dispose of them before the FBI had arrived. Fenton tucked the images back into the folder and glanced back at Tod. His head was down again, white-knuckled hands tangled in the tousled black hair, and his shoulders were heaving. Fenton hoped that the judge would be understand. He got up to leave, ushering in another person as he did so.

"Tod?" Tod didn't look up at the voice. He knew who it was, and he didn't want to be seen like this. "Tod?" There was the scraping of a chair as the person sat down. Tod finally peeked at the speaker. Frank. "Go away." He didn't want to see Frank right now. Maybe not ever again. He just wanted it all to go away. Why couldn't it all go away? "Go away, Frank, go away!" His voice broke at the end. "Please, just go away! Leave me the fuck alone!" He was crying. _'Fuck!'_

There was no noise then, nothing but the sounds of Tod struggling for air. Eventually his sobs trickled off into sniffles, then into silence again. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, the cold metal of the handcuffs scraping against his forehead. _'God, what a wimp!'_ To Frank he said, "Why are you here?" Frank didn't answer right away.

"They caught him." He said softly. Tod knew that already and said as much. Frank nodded. "They're talking about a trial."

"I can't do that," Tod turned his head, his bottom lip quivering, "I can't."

"You may not have to, they do take written testimonies, you wouldn't even have to be there."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"I…I'll do it." Frank was shifting in his chair, hands rubbing arms as if he was cold, "I'll get on the stand and be the witness." The two of them sat there not looking at each other, until a police officer entered and said that time was up. Tod let himself be taken by the arm but just before he left the room, he half-turned and said, "You're the one who is stronger, Frank. I can't do this like you can."

When Frank met Fenton outside the police station he said, "I'm worried about him."

"So am I," Fenton exhaled heavily. "He'll be watched tonight, and he should be ok until the hearing tomorrow."

The next morning the judge passed down a sentencing that was the best anyone could hope for. "The defendant known as Tod Hardey is to spend the next six months in the secured facility of Oakwood Behavioral Hospital, three months community service, and is charged with a two-hundred and fifty thousand dollar fine."

"Son," the judge looked directly at Tod, who stiffened, "I know you've been through some terrible things, and that the road ahead of you is going to be hard, but in the end it will be worth it. Best of luck to you."

Tod was to be transported to the behavioral hospital immediately following the hearing, but Frank did get a moment to speak with him. "I'm going to keep in touch, okay?" He was asking Tod's permission. Tod looked at him, and his smile was small and a little sad. "Okay."

As they drove back to campus Frank wondered aloud if Tod was going to be okay after all. Fenton said that he was inclined to think that with time and the help the behavioral hospital could provide there was a good chance that Tod would be able to resume a somewhat normal life. "But, only time can tell."


End file.
